Another Plane of Existence
by RissaAngel
Summary: At a time when the wizarding world is becoming unhinged, Severus Snape has to deal with a few unexpected events that will change his life forever. With his fellow Slytherins, Lily, and the Marauders creating obstacles for him, this proves to be difficult.
1. Ravages of Spirit

Author's Note: This story was started prior to the release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I edited the first chapter to include HBP characters and went on from there. Much later in my writing, JK released the Black family tree. Because I had much of the story plotted out by that point, I have not edited my story to include their canon ages.

**Another Plane of Existence  
**June, 2005  
Disclaimer: All of the characters belong to JK Rowling

**Chapter One: Ravages of Spirit**

Severus stalked back to the castle clenching his jaw tightly. The bitter taste of soap still lingered in his mouth as a sour reminder of the past hour's events. Never in his life had he felt so humiliated. If he ever got his hands around Potter's neck, or better yet, Black's neck, he was certain that it would be the last thing they'd ever remember.

He held his wand out in front of him threateningly as he crossed the grounds, and an unlucky little Ravenclaw boy in his path yelped and quickly jumped out of the way. Severus barely acknowledged him, solely focused on returning to the Slytherin Common Room. As he went, he racked his brain for a suitable hex that he could use for vengeance. No, he decided, twisting his mouth into a dire glower, he didn't know anything that would be cruel enough. Extensive research was needed before he sought revenge. They would have to pay; they needed to pay.

The more he mulled over everything the angrier he became; he could feel a red flush creeping up from the collar of his robes.

Merely the fact that he exists, indeed.

He stopped abruptly at the doors to the Entrance Hall and spat out the last bit of soapy froth onto the stones. He hadn't even taunted the dolts this time, though their attack wasn't exactly surprising. He loathed the fact that they had done it on the grounds in front of everyone. Not only that, but he'd been pitied by a Mudblood, which was as demeaning as having his underpants on display, if not worse. Evans and the sickly Gryffindor prefect, Lupin, finally intervened once Evan Rosier showed up and threatened to pound Black into oblivion. Severus was sure he'd hear about that later, too. Rosier would, no doubt, expect something in return, and Severus hoped it would be no more than extra Potions tutoring.

Laying his hand upon the door, he pushed it open with a loud creak, quickly slipping in and making his way toward the dungeons. How many people had seen him, he wondered. No, he wouldn't allow himself to think about that. Instead, he would plot painful and certain deaths for the four boys whose goal was to make his life miserable. As if it wasn't miserable enough already.

He descended the small stairway to the dark corridors of the dungeons, trying to steady his breath. He inhaled deeply through his nose, distracting himself with the familiar smells of the dungeons; the wafting scents of mould, wet stone, and torch fuel enveloped him, but the familiarity of the scents was hardly pacifying. He stepped quietly, keeping near to the walls and in the shadows so that he could remain unnoticed. Readjusting the bag on his shoulder, he turned the corner and ran into something, only it wasn't something; it was somebody.

"Oh!" a girl's voice gasped in surprise.

"Watch it," he said shortly. His eyes flickered to the figure in front of him and his muscles tensed. It was Evans. She brushed a lock of her dark red hair away from her face and frowned.

"Not the epitome of politeness, are you Snape?" she asked, rubbing her shoulder.

He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say. Still vexed at the events that took place in the last half hour or so, the seething anger he felt was not about to deescalate, especially considering it was Evans that he had run into. He gave her a cold, hard look. "It took you this long to realize that?" he finally replied. "I thought you were supposed to be intelligent, Evans."

Her green eyes narrowed and the corners of her mouth pulled taut. She placed her hands on her hips and lifted an eyebrow at him. "Piss off, Snape."

His brows quirked a fraction of an inch in surprise and he glared back at her. "And you're criticizing me about being rude?" He thought about how she had bore witness to the unveiling of his undergarments, and another swell of anger washed over him. "Perhaps you'd like to bring up the state of the finer garments in my wardrobe again to top it all off." His fingers tightened around his wand and he nodded down at it. "Or perhaps you fancy being dangled from the air yourself."

Her anger quickly melted away into shock. "What? No, of course not!" Two pink spots appeared on the apples of her cheeks.

Severus studied her carefully, waiting for her to make a move. She eyed his wand for a moment, then moved her gaze back up to his face and fixed him with a scrutinizing look. Feeling extremely weary, he raised his wand up a little higher. He was taking a risk threatening a prefect, but at this point, he really didn't care.

"Are we done, then?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied quickly. "I mean, no." Lily took a deep breath, and with what seemed like forced resignation, continued to speak. "I can't always control my temper, especially when someone is calling me awful names."

"Nothing like Snivellus, surely?" What on earth was she getting at, he wondered. He sincerely hoped that she wasn't expecting him to apologize, and nearly laughed at the thought.

"You know that what you called me wasn't any better."

Good God, she was expecting an apology, he realized, staring at her as though she were insane. This would have to be remedied immediately.

"As if you'd be singing praises had you been in my situation." He lifted his chin and scowled down at her, eyes glittering angrily over the pronounced bridge of his nose. "Now if you'll excuse me," he added steadily, and quickly side-stepped around her, continuing to walk down the length of corridor.

"I'm sorry," she called out from behind him. He could just picture her standing there, foolishly waiting for his acceptance and a return apology. Gryffindors, he thought scathingly.

Slinking back into the shadows, he didn't bother to acknowledge her at all.

* * *

Dinner in the Great Hall went as he suspected it would. He had briefly considered skipping the meal with the other Hogwarts' students, but decided that he would never give Potter and Black the satisfaction. Severus was not unfamiliar with gossip--it spread around the school faster than devil's snare—but he hoped that he was not popular enough to be truly affected by what everyone would have to say, anyhow.

He flopped unceremoniously onto the bench next to Regulus Black and Evan Rosier. Across the table from him, Rabastan Lestrange lifted a dark eyebrow. "We heard you were put in a spot this morning, Snape." His brown eyes sparkled mischievously. "Perhaps you should spend less money on books and more money on your wardrobe."

Evan, who had just popped a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth, snorted loudly. "Nah," he said thickly, flecks of potato flying out of his mouth, "what you need to do is not wear any pants at all. That'd give them a shock." All of the boys around him erupted into hardy laughter.

Snape sighed and placed his elbow on the table, resting his pointed chin in the palm of his hand. He wasn't in the mood to be the object of his housemates' taunts.

"Maybe all of the girls would have rescued you sooner," Evan continued, dipping his spoon into the heaping pile of mashed potatoes on his plate.

"Or ran away screaming, more likely," Rabastan replied.

Snape gritted his teeth tightly. "I wasn't rescued by any girls."

Rabastan grinned. "Is that right?" He turned in his seat and glanced over his shoulder at the Gryffindor table. "And here I always assumed that Evans was a girl."

"What are you getting at?" Severus asked icily.

"Rosier told us that she ran to your rescue," Rabastan replied. "Never in my life would I have guessed a girl as pretty as Evans would have come to your rescue." He stared over his shoulder again, watching Lily talk animatedly with a group of her friends. "Then again, she's a Mudblood, so it's not _that_ impressive."

Severus looked over Rabastan's shoulder to where Lily was seated. She was laughing about something with her friends, and her cheeks dimpled on either side of her mouth. She seemed to be fully recovered from the earlier events, he noted, watching her. He frowned, wondering what it would be like to be able to forget such events so easily, and realized, suddenly, that she was no longer looking at her friends, but at him. Immediately dropping his gaze, he cursed himself for staring at her long enough that she'd noticed. He hoped that she wouldn't make the assumption that he might possibly want to apologize.

Luckily for him, Rabastan was turned back around and paying no attention to Snape or Lily. He was too busy wolfing down a piece of mincemeat pie. No one noticed anything.

Evan nudged Severus hard in the ribs. "If you do have a go with her," he said, "share her with a mate, would you? I could teach her a few things." He smirked and brushed away his thick brown hair from his face. "You owe me, you know."

"I owe you," Severus repeated stiffly. "Right." He had known Rosier would expect something in return.

Evan shrugged. "Suit yourself. Next time Black and Potter decide to flip you over so that everyone sees your mangy pants, I'll laugh and point with the rest of them." He was quiet for a moment, and a small smirk settled itself on his lips. "I'll even help them out."

"If your aim is still as it was the last time I saw you duelling, Rosier, then I worry for everyone else," Severus spat. Evan flushed angrily, but the rest of the group chuckled in amusement. He hadn't actually meant to be entertaining, though he supposed the truth behind what he'd said was amusing enough, unlike Evan's remark. Severus glared down at his plate angrily. "Besides, there will never be a next time."

Regulus turned and regarded Severus silently for a moment, very much resembling his brother, despite the sharper features and narrower frame. "Are you going to get them back?" he asked. He cocked a brow, watching Snape with a curious expression on his face.

"Of course he is," Rabastan said, eyeing Snape shrewdly. "You are, aren't you?"

Severus nodded almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps long and painful deaths by poison."

The shadow of a figure standing behind Severus fell across the table. "That sounds like fun," a voice said silkily, "but Unforgivables take less preparation and are equally satisfying."

"Bellatrix," he murmured, swivelling around to meet her clear blue eyes. Her robes were a bit undone, and she was showing more cleavage than the average, respectable Hogwarts witch would. Of course, Bellatrix prided herself in being anything but average.

"'Lo, Bella," Regulus chimed in. The boys looked at her respectfully. She was a seventh year, Head Girl, and worshipped by the boys in Slytherin House. Most of the Slytherin girls envied her, though they would hardly admit it. Bellatrix had long, shiny black hair and heavily lidded blue eyes, which were now glittering malevolently.

"They'll have their time, Severus," she continued. "Be patient. I understand that Dumbledore's going to have a talk with them, though I'm certain he'll only give them a slap on the wrist, the old fool." She bent down in between Evan and Snape and her long hair fell over Severus's shoulder. He was immediately overwhelmed by the smell of rich spices like coriander and cloves. It was nearly intoxicating. "You'll think of something," she whispered, her breath tickling his ear. He broke out in gooseflesh and grunted softly.

Bellatrix straightened back up--Evan looked quite disappointed by this--and ran a hand down the front of her robes, lingering momentarily over her chest. Unlike Evan, Severus did his best not to stare. "Rabastan, where is your brother?" she asked quickly. "I want a word with him."

"Off posting a letter, I think," Rabastan replied. "He'll be around shortly. He wouldn't miss dinner."

Bellatrix nodded curtly and turned to take her seat at the end of the table with the older Slytherins. Everyone around her seemed to sit up a little straighter once she had taken her seat.

"Your brother is the luckiest bloke in the world," Evan murmured quietly, hazel eyes still fixated on Bellatrix. She sat at their table as though she were seated on a throne. She certainly looked and acted the part of a queen, but Severus had little doubts that she would send one to the gauntlet with a blink of an eye.

"He seems to think so," Rabastan admitted, shrugging. "He's dead set on asking her to marry him once they're through with school. He seems to think it's his own idea, but I'm sure she planted it into his mind somehow. She's like that."

Severus silently agreed with Rabastan. Bellatrix was manipulative and cunning, and to top it all off, extremely intelligent. When Bellatrix was around, everything in the vicinity slowly became unhinged. She was admirable, certainly, but her power made Severus weary.

"She's always been that way," Regulus spoke up again, setting down his fork. "A right wicked streak. She used to get us in trouble all the time." He blinked twice, and then shut up abruptly. Severus assumed that when he said 'us' he meant he and his brother, Sirius. Again, Severus's gaze flickered over to the Gryffindor table, where Black and Potter were sitting next to each other. Sirius leaned over and whispered something conspiratorial to Potter, who laughed so loudly his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose.

Severus curled his lip in disgust and looked away. He picked up his fork and blinked idly at the roast beef that was growing cold on his plate. He never had a close friend in all his schooling thus far, although in Slytherin house, no friends were ever that close. They'd sell each other out to save their own skin, which happened more often than not. Still, he was glad when Rosier, Lestrange, and the other boys included him in their gang. They had been amazed at his skill with dark magic, and Bellatrix always insisted that he had potential.

Hanging around the group of Slytherins was sometimes amusing, but it was also mentally exhausting. Severus always had to be in top form; he never wanted to miss anything that a fellow housemate said or did, because it could have dire consequences later. It was because of this that he still enjoyed his time alone in the library, or helping Professor Slughorn organize the hundreds of ingredients in the potions classroom. It was mindless work that kept him busy while allowing him time to relax.

"Er," Regulus said quietly, "Snape?"

"What?" He drew his eyes away from the hunk of meat on his plate.

"There are some Hufflepuffs pointing at you over there." Regulus tilted his head toward the Hufflepuff table, where a blond headed boy with a scar running down the length of his face was indeed pointing at Severus. Rabastan spun around in his seat, and Evan also stopped mid-bite to stare at the Hufflepuff table.

Severus lifted an eyebrow and frowned. The boy, who must have realized that the entire group of fifth year Slytherins was now staring in his direction, paled slightly and turned back around in his seat. The girl he had been chatting with also seemed nervous.

"Aren't you going to go over there and say something?" Evan asked curiously.

"Not now," Severus replied. He had no desire of making more of a spectacle than was already there.

"But you _are_ going to say something?" Rabastan asked, still eyeing the boy dangerously.

Severus poked at his food with the end of his fork. "I'm not going to _say_ anything." He had the Arithmancy OWL with the boy, whose name was Davy Gudgeon, tomorrow. He was fairly certain that he could manage to make the numbers on Davy's parchment roll jumble without the naïve boy even noticing. It would teach him to be such a dunderhead.

"Not _say_ anything, eh?" Rabastan repeated, getting Severus's subtle hint. A small smirk spread across his face as he turned back around. "Now see, boys? This is precisely why we hang around Snape." He winked at Snape from across the table. "Pity I don't take Arithmancy. I'd rather like to see you in action."

Severus grunted quietly, finally taking a bite of his meal, which was now cold. He didn't really care, and chewed it dully.

Evan, who had finished shovelling a strawberry tart into his mouth, swiped his napkin across his handsome face carefully. "So," he said, changing the subject, "how long do you boys reckon' it will take to convince Florence Jenkins to go with me to Hogsmeade?"

* * *

Severus sat on his bed in the fifth year male dormitory with the bed curtains drawn around him. He was reading through an old, tattered book with the words "Olde Curses for the Skylled Wizard" across the binding. With a quick flick of his wand, the page turned.

The rest of dinner had been rather uneventful, though Severus now had a small list of about a dozen students who would be perplexed to find their notes and test parchments missing, blank, or inexplicably ridiculous in their contents later. He was rather looking forward to crossing each and every name off of the list. If anyone re-offended, the consequences would be much more severe, not to mention painful.

"Psst!" A voice hissed from beyond his curtains. "Snape!"

Severus paused in his reading, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. It was no use in pretending that he wasn't in bed. Lestrange had seen him get in an hour before. He opened his eyes and glared at the crack in his curtains.

"What is it?"

"Open up the curtains."

Irritably, Severus stretched his arm forward and yanked the green velvet bed curtains to the side. Rabastan was standing there in his striped pyjamas, looking smug.

"Well," said Severus, "what is it?"

"You'll never guess who we overheard sticking up for you in the Front Hall," Rabastan replied. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet triumphantly.

Severus gave an uninterested half-shrug and glanced back at his book longingly. He didn't need anyone to stick up for him, nor did he want anyone sticking up for him. "One of the Hufflepuffs that I tutor in Potions?" he guessed lazily. They were rather loyal, but then, that was their nature.

Rabastan shook his head. "Nope. Try again."

Severus wasn't in the mood for one of Rabastan's games. In the past, they were known to go on for days on end, and Rabastan's smug behaviour only worsened. Severus decided it was best to put a stop to something before it even began. "And what if I don't _want_ to try again?" he asked.

Rabastan narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Fine," he snapped, "if you don't want to know, than I'm not going to bother telling you." His fists clenched at his sides. "You're such a wanker?"

"I'm a wanker?" Severus countered softly. "I'm sorry I can't appease you," he added coolly. "I don't fancy playing childish guessing games." He absently thumbed his wand, his mind running through curses in case Rabastan decided to try anything.

"Oh, so you think I'm childish?" Rabastan asked, brows rising in a dangerous challenge. He stepped forward, and gave Snape a threatening look. "Now see here—"

"SNAPE!" Evan Rosier burst through the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. "I've been looking for you all over. Evans was sticking up for you! Rabastan and I overheard her in the front hall; it was bloody hilarious!" He skidded to a stop when he noticed both boys' faces. "Say, what's going on?"

The tension that had built up between Severus and Rabastan cracked at Evan's entrance. Rabastan spun around and looked at Evan angrily. "Rosier! You weren't supposed to say anything!"

"I wasn't?" Evan looked surprised. "Why on earth not?"

"Because Rabastan here was having a fine time taunting me," Severus replied. "I'm sorry that I have to disappoint you both, but I have no interest in what Evans thinks of me."

"Even when I tell you that she said you were brilliant at Potions?" Evan asked with a wry grin.

Rabastan huffed angrily, obviously still cross over his fun being spoiled. "Leave it to a Mudblood to find the illusion of something good in Snape."

Severus could have hexed Rabastan on the spot. He would have revelled in giving the ignorant dolt bleeding blisters on his feet, or an itchy rash that would break out in even worse areas of his body. Instead, he decided to let Lestrange be. The day's events had really taken a toll on him. "I've never tried to be good," he said shortly. It was true. He never had.

Rosier nodded. "Who would? It's too much work." He paused thoughtfully. "Unless you're trying to score a girl, of course."

"Shut up, you idiot," snapped Rabastan.

"What?" Rosier protested.

"Are girls all you think about?"

Rosier fluttered his eyelashes and took a step towards Rabastan, who made a face. "Only when I'm not dreaming about you, Lestrange," he teased.

Rabastan pushed up the sleeves of his pyjama top. "You'll be having nightmares in a moment," he warned, advancing forward.

"As much as I'd like to see you two lovebirds make up," Severus interrupted, watching them argue with a preoccupied look on his face, "I'm going to bed. Good night." With that, he shut the curtains around him and sat back on his pillows, leaving Rabastan and Evan to grumble incoherently amongst each other.

He picked up his book where he left off and began to read again, but found that he couldn't get much farther than the first few paragraphs. Why was Evans sticking up for him all of the sudden? Not only that, but why did she feel the need to share information about him with fellow Hogwarts students, especially with people like Lestrange and Rosier hanging about? She was really the most irritating Muggle-born he had ever met. Why couldn't she just mind her own business, he wondered. If Bellatrix got word of it, Snape would surely be in for an earful.

An unfamiliar feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, and he set his book aside, slipping underneath his sheets. When exactly did Evans notice that he was brilliant at Potions, anyway? It was not a big secret, admittedly, but the Gryffindors rarely acknowledged his skill as a matter of principle. In fact, he was rarely acknowledged by anyone other than Professor Slughorn and the few students who asked for his tutoring.

Frankly, he was the one who usually took note of skill in the Potions room. There were a fair few who were all right in Potions, both Slytherins and Gryffindors. Lestrange, Black, Potter, and Pettigrew weren't terrible; although Lupin was hopeless, and Rosier was usually too busy making eyes at the girls in the class to bother getting the ingredients correct. Evans, however, showed a certain flair for potion making, which she attributed to her love for cooking when asked about it by their Professor.

He had snorted at the time. Brewing draughts and potions was nothing like cooking. Leave it to a Muggle-born to make such a simple-minded comparison.

He closed his eyes, pondering her statement. Severus didn't like competition, but he did appreciate the fact that she considered him brilliant. Certainly he was better than her, and she realized it. This was good, because if she thought him brilliant, she wouldn't attempt to outdo him in class. He yawned and turned over onto his side.

As if she could, anyhow. No one would overcome Severus Snape without a difficult struggle. He wouldn't allow it.


	2. Broken

--Previous disclaimers apply

**Broken**  
**Chapter Two  
**

Severus rolled out of bed early the next morning, grabbing his things and hastening to the showers to prepare for the long day. He'd never been much for company, and the thought of socializing whilst completing his daily hygiene routine disturbed him. It didn't help that Rosier had no shame and walked around the bathrooms naked, much to Severus's horror. Rising early meant that he didn't have to deal with the rest of his housemates. Severus never considered himself to be a morning person by any means, and his tolerance for his fellow Slytherins was barely existent during the dawning hours. He preferred the company of books to humans the majority of the time.

Severus caught his reflection in one of the steam repellent mirrors as he stepped out of the shower to grab his robes. Pausing, he eyed it steadily. Potter and Black were quick to point out the more adverse features of Severus's physical appearance, calling him many things along the line of "greasy git" and "beaky". Although it made him angry, he reluctantly understood the origins of the nicknames. He was unlucky, perhaps, as far as appearances go, but it seemed trivial on the grand scale of things.

Unlike many of his fellow students, he'd never even considered attracting members of the opposite sex. His own physical appearance was of no real importance to him, especially since most of it was predetermined by genetics. That wasn't to say he didn't appreciate attractiveness, because he most certainly did. It was hard to ignore aesthetic beauty, especially in the feminine form, and he'd felt a certain allure towards girls like the Black sisters, who were all very beautiful. He simply preferred to be alone. He had his own agenda, and as far as he'd ever witnessed, coupling created far more problems than it was worth.

He rubbed at his hair with a towel and swiped at the drips of water running down the length of his hooked nose. Combing back his limp hair with his fingers, he tucked it behind his ears; it was nearly past his shoulders now. He glanced in the mirror, momentarily studying his sallow face and the hollows in his cheekbones. Pulling his hair back accentuated the severity of his features. He would never be handsome; it was a simple fact. His father had went so far as to tell him that he'd have to make up for being ugly with knowledge and skill. Then again, his father often insisted that Severus was an incapable fool who would never get anything right even if his life depended on it.

He scowled at his reflection in the mirror darkly.

"Cheer up, love," the mirror said, "at least you don't have pock-marks."

He sneered dangerously and stalked away from the mirror, silently cursing the wizard who'd had the bright idea to give inanimate objects the ability to speak. Quickly fastening the buttons of his robes, he grabbed his things and left the dormitory for breakfast in the Great Hall.

It was quiet in the corridors. He supposed that the students who had been up late studying for their final exams were having a lie-in. Today he had O.W.L. exams in both Potions and Arithmancy. Severus wasn't concerned about his Potions exam. He was well past fifth year level in his private studies and was quite certain that there wouldn't be anything on the exam that he wouldn't know. The majority of the potions required for O.W.L.s were ones that he'd mastered long ago.

He skulked out of the dungeons and through the Entrance Hall, heading into the Great Hall for breakfast. Though he had already decided he would not go outside today, he glanced up at the enchanted ceiling to check the weather out of habit. Waking up in the dungeons made it impossible for the Slytherins to tell what the weather would be like for the rest of the day. Really, the Slytherin Common Room view only helped if one was wondering whether or not the young merpeople had spent the morning with their faces pressed up against the glass or if Moaning Myrtle had been flushed down the pipes again. As it happened, the ceiling of the Great Hall was a clear blue with only a few white, puffy clouds, and only one young merman had knocked on the Common Room window.

Severus slumped down onto a bench, helping himself to a couple sausage links and a slice of toast. He then pulled out his Arithmancy notes and placed them on the table beside his plate so he could look them over as he ate.

"Excuse me," a voice said from not so far away.

Severus ignored the voice and kept eating, assuming the person was speaking to someone else at the Slytherin table.

"Er…Severus?" the voice said awkwardly.

He frowned, swallowed his food, and looked up at the source of the voice. He blinked in surprise, realizing that the voice belonged to none other than Evans. She'd never approached him in the Great Hall before, and he hoped that she still wasn't expecting an apology for yesterday's affair.

She gave him a pensive smile. "Good morning."

Immediately suspicious of her impromptu greeting, Severus scanned the room for any signs of snickering or amusement. Gryffindor students rarely approached Slytherin students, and it would hardly surprise him if someone had put her up to initiating a conversation with him.

Severus noticed James Potter enter the hall by himself, looking thunderous. The bespectacled boy peered at the Slytherin table suspiciously, throwing his books down onto the table in front of him with such ferocity that they slid across the tabletop and landed on the floor. He seemed far too serious to be involved in a prank. Snape watched him quietly. No, if Potter were up to something, it would be written all over his face. Not only that, but Potter rarely pulled a prank on his own; he liked an audience and partners in crime.

No one else looked particularly suspect, so Severus turned his attention back to strange witch standing in front of him. He forced his expression to remain vague and lifted an eyebrow quizzically. "Yes?"

"Listen, normally, I would never ask you this, but I'm in a bit of a spot," Evans said. She seemed flustered, and her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. "I've misplaced all of my notes for Potions. I've no idea where I put them; none of my roommates are up yet and I would rather die than ask Potter for his." She rolled her eyes towards the Gryffindor table behind her. "He seems to be the only other fifth year in Gryffindor house up at the moment." She shrugged and shook her head quickly as if dismissing him. "His notes are probably awful, anyhow."

Snape listened to Lily ramble on silently. He made no move to reply, but did look past her at James, who was pretending to be engrossed in his breakfast and failing miserably. He continued to flash dark looks in Severus's general direction about every minute or so.

Snape wondered if Potter was actually angry that Evans was associating with him. A sense of satisfaction slowly spread throughout his body, and he debated actually lending out his notes, if not merely to infuriate Potter. Trying his best to appear impassive, Snape weighed his options. He truly wasn't concerned with whether or not Evans had notes for the upcoming exam; it was her fault that she carelessly misplaced them. Still, he realized that lending her his notes might result in a reaction from Potter that would be worthwhile.

What remained to be seen was whether or not it would benefit Severus in the end.

He pulled a face of utter annoyance and fixed her with an intense stare. "You'd like to borrow my notes?" he asked, finally.

She nodded, lacing and unlacing her fingers in front of her uncomfortably, and it was apparent that she was enjoying their conversation as much as he was, which was very little. "If you aren't using them, that is."

He reached into his bag and came up with a thick roll of parchment. "I'm through with them," he replied, placing them on the table. "There's not much in there that isn't common sense, anyway."

Lily looked perplexed. "Common sense?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

She sighed irritably and looked as though she wanted to say something rude back, but she held her tongue. He assumed it was only because she needed the notes so badly. He pushed them across the table and nodded towards her. "Don't muss them," he told her. "Don't let anyone else handle them, and if you lose them," he emphasized, gesturing down at the roll, "we'll talk about finding something of equal value to replace them with." Severus was not one to just go on and lend things out at ease, and he even considered fifth year Potions notes to be valuable.

Lily pursed her lips and stared at the roll. She looked like she was deliberating over his comments. He was about to snatch the roll back and tell her that the deal was off when she spoke up. "Fine." She picked the notes up and unrolled them, scanning the first page.

He remained silent, watching her face as she looked over his work.

"Oh," she murmured, "these are excellent." Her gaze flickered back to Snape. "I really appreciate this. I wanted to review since we have a couple hours before the exam begins."

"It's nothing." Again, he quickly looked around the Great Hall to make sure that no one was around who would give him hell for speaking with her. To his relief, the only other Slytherins at his table were third years and below, including Barty Crouch. Barty was on speaking terms with Regulus, but Snape doubted the little boy would have the gall to say anything. The rest of the hall was fairly empty save the Ravenclaw table, which was, unsurprisingly, nearly full. Sensing no imminent danger, he dropped his gaze back to his Arithmancy notes on the table, returning his attention to one of the more difficult problems.

He could hear the shifting of papers; Evans was still standing in front of him. Having no desire to invite her to sit down and chat about O.W.L.s and Quidditch or whatever other mindless topics Gryffindors chose to amuse themselves with, he decided to make one final comment. "Keep our deal in mind. I'll hold you to it," he said flatly, not bothering to look up.

Lily tucked the roll of parchment under her arm. "Thanks again," she said, ignoring his warning, "I'll have these back to you after the exam."

He shrugged, refusing to tear his eyes away from his notes until he heard her footsteps leaving. Then he barely inclined his head to watch her walk back to the Gryffindor table. She took the seat farthest away from Potter, he observed with mild amusement. At least Evans had sense enough to see Potter for what he really was. Snape decided that alone deserved a look at his notes.

From across the hall, James must have seen Snape's amusement and flashed a rude hand gesture in return. Snape's smirked triumphantly.

* * *

His Arithmancy exam went rather well. 

He had a feeling that it would be good after he managed to procure a seat in the row next to Davy Gudgeon. Once the exam had started, he had perfect view of Davy's parchment. Davy was blissfully unaware, distracted by a conversation between the professor and a Hufflepuff girl who looked near to tears. With a quick swish of his wand, Severus placed a charm on the parchment, causing the numbers to shift places. Predictably, Gudgeon didn't even realize it, too engrossed in his friend who was now sobbing uncontrollably, her hiccups and sobs echoing throughout the room. Although Gudgeon's exam wasn't even close to being finished, he had completed enough of it that Severus's charm would have a profound effect on his scoring. It would take Gudgeon a while to correct his exam, should he realize the errors on the paper, at the very least.

The faintest trace of a satisfied smile crept over Severus's face as he completed the rest of his exam.

After the old examiner collected the tests, Snape packed up his things and left the room, quietly looking over his notes like he had the day before. Instead of going to the grounds, however, he decided to take sanctuary in the library. He knew that there would be no major disturbances there. The librarian, a stern witch named Madam Pince, had little tolerance for anyone causing trouble or breaking rules.

He walked in, carefully avoiding Pince's keen eyes, and took a seat at a table in the corner that was half engulfed in shadows. The only exam he had left was Potions, both the written test and the practical. Severus pulled out an old, tattered book from his bag and opened it up to a page revealing small, cramped writing scribbled all over the margins. It was his mother's old potions text, and Severus used it as his own private journal, improving potion steps and logging interesting curses and counter curses. He spent a lot of time perfecting the spells he developed. It was a hobby that he had; he found the Dark Arts fascinating.

The Dark Arts were skilful and challenging; a witch or wizard was required to know dark magic both inside and out. Severus truly appreciated the various curses, hexes, bindings, and powerful blood magic that wizards could use against each other. It was intriguing. Defending one's self was extremely important in survival, and if there was one thing Severus had learned in his life thus far, it was surviving.

He ran a long finger across the page, stopping at the word _sectum_. The latest curse he was developing involved slicing the skin. He had managed a small cut across Potter's face the day before, but that was clearly substandard. What he needed was something that would be detrimental.

He was scribbling down various Latin tenses when he heard a disturbance behind him. Shifting around in his seat, he noticed an open space in the bookshelves, and caught a glimpse of two figures moving in the shadows. They seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion.

"How can I be certain that you are to be trusted?" a voice whispered.

"Why are you even bothering to trust anyone at all?" the other voice countered. "Anyhow, I hate the spot our families are being put in as much as you do."

"And you're truly interested in learning more about him?"

"Absolutely."

"Very well," the first voice said. The figure leaned forward, and Severus's mouth dropped open as he recognized the familiar shine of thick, black hair. Bellatrix moved towards the other figure, pressing her body gently against it. Severus knew it was another male student. "I hope you're not lying, for your sake," she whispered huskily. She reached out and placed the palm of her hand behind the boy's neck, bringing his face close to her own, and whispered something inaudible into the his ear.

A few moments later, Severus saw her march out of the aisle of books, smoothing out her robes. She didn't bother giving a second glance to whomever she had been talking with.

Severus pretended to be reading his notes, but he watched for any other movement out of that particular row of books with his peripheral vision. He was very curious as to who she'd talking with. The voice was unfamiliar.

His question was answered when Augustus Rookwood, sixth year Ravenclaw prefect, walked out of the shadows. The tall, muscular boy scanned the library uneasily before exiting out into the corridors.

Snape watched Rookwood's broad figure leisurely walk out of the library. Interesting, he decided. Very interesting.

* * *

Students were already queued up at the door to the Potions classroom when Severus arrived. He walked to the end of the queue, barely acknowledging the people ahead of him. He was more interested in musing over the conversation he had overheard between Bellatrix and Rookwood. He slumped against the wall and stared across the hall blankly. 

He had a vague idea of what their conversation was all about, and the thought made him weary. He had heard whispers and a few thinly veiled hints here and there, especially among the older Slytherins. Muggle-bashing and talk of Unforgivable curses were becoming increasingly common, and though it made Severus a little uneasy, he was also intrigued.

His thoughts were disrupted when Florence Jenkins, nose in a book, trampled over his feet. He gave a great twitch and swore under his breath.

"Oh, sorry Snape," she said absently, continuing to walk to the end of the queue. What Rosier saw in her, Severus simply didn't know.

Like Florence, most of the students were having a last minute cramming session. Snape, on the other hand, was one of the only students in the dungeon corridors empty-handed. He was certain that the potions exam would be a breeze, and after it was completed he would only have the practical left to complete. A sort of hollow feeling was growing inside of him; the last test meant that it would be time for the students to leave Hogwarts. He wasn't exactly fancying a summer at home in Spinner's End.

Severus was drawn out of his thoughts by a buoyant, cheery voice. "File in, file in!" Professor Slughorn's plump figure was bobbing up and down near the doorway. "Your examiner, Professor Quinn, will be explaining the procedures momentarily."

Snape, along with the others, filed into the room and raised his eyebrows. The Potions room had been expanded, and single desks replaced the long tables. It was quite different than what he was used to. He promptly sat at a desk in the row on the farthest end. There was less chance of another student being able to copy his work, which was sure to happen. Not surprisingly, Evan Rosier took the seat across from him.

"All right, Snape. Mind if I have a look at your notes before the exam?" Evan asked, eyeing Snape's bag.

"I didn't bring them," Snape replied, giving a half-shrug.

Evan's face fell. Obviously he had been counting on them. "Bugger," he said. "S'pose that rules out any last minute studying."

Snape nodded curtly. "I suppose it does." Behind Evan, students were quickly beginning to file into their seats. Lestrange entered and gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, choosing a seat a few rows away. He pulled out a bundle of parchment began to thumb through it until he found the particular sheet he was looking for. Seeing an opportunity, Rosier immediately brightened and called over to him to ask if he had any notes to spare.

While Rosier and Lestrange argued over the order that ingredients are to be added into the Polyjuice potion, Severus scanned the room behind them. A loud laugh echoed off of the walls, accompanied by a sudden movement that caught the corner of his eye. Peter Pettigrew was dodging a piece of balled up parchment that Potter and Black were taking turns bouncing off of his head. They obviously found themselves amusing, and the quiet titter from the girls surrounding them only encouraged their misbehaviour.

Their antics were earning a few well-deserved glares from the more studious students, both Slytherins and Gryffindors.

When Peter's pink face started to grow red Lupin finally looked up from his notes and put an end to it. Snape rolled his eyes. He really hoped none of them would scrape an O.W.L. in Potions. It would make the rest of his schooling much more agreeable.

Across the room, Potter complied with Lupin's pleading and abandoned his game of torture-Peter. Instead, he focused his attention on Evans. Snape nearly cringed at the singsong tone of Potter's voice. "Evans…"

He couldn't help but watch Potter, wondering what the idiot wanted from her.

Lily, who had been absorbed in Severus's notes, ducked her head down. It looked to Snape like she was trying to avoid Potter at all costs.

"Evans!" Potter sang a little louder.

Lily turned around and gave him a dark look. "What is it, Potter?"

James ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it lazily. "I was only curious if your hands were greasy from handling those notes," he said smugly. His eyes flickered to where Snape was sitting.

Snape's hand jerked for his wand and he clenched his jaw tightly. As if he didn't know what Potter was up to. The Gryffindor was anything but subtle. Snape sat still, quietly seething. It would be small pleasure to curse the smirk off of Potter's face permanently. He watched the group of Gryffindors carefully, waiting for the perfect moment to whip out his wand and see to it that Potter spent the rest of the day under the care of Madam Pomfrey.

Lily was giving Potter an absolutely murderous glare. "Probably not as greasy as you were after handling _Bertha Jorkins_," she replied. Potter's jaw dropped and he sputtered indignantly.

Sirius let out a loud guffaw and clapped James on the back, muttering something that sounded like "And you never told me?"

James opened his mouth to reply, but Snape never knew what he was about to say because the examiner, Professor Quinn, cleared his throat. "All right," he said, "notes and wands away, please…"

There was a rustling of papers as the professor continued to rattle on about the rules and procedures of the Potions testing. Then, with a quick flick of his wand, a test appeared on every desk. Severus bowed his head down and got straight to work, quill swiftly scratching across the parchment. It quickly filled up lengthy explanations and examples.

He was looking over his test for any errors when the examiner announced that their time was up. Papers flew from the students' hands into Quinn's own, and everyone began to gather their belongings and leave the room.

Next to Snape, Rosier groaned quietly. "That was hell," he said, hoisting a backpack over his shoulder. "I'm fairly certain I won't be seeing this room next year." He glanced around at the stone walls and gave them a mock salute.

Snape gave him a thin-lipped smirk. "It wasn't difficult, Rosier. If you spent as much time studying your notes as you did girls, you could possibly make an 'O' in Potions."

Rosier grimaced. "The only 'oh' I make in Potions is usually followed by the word 'no'," he said. Snape snorted.

They both walked out of the room together and Snape turned to go to the Slytherin Common Room. He stopped short when he realized that Rosier wasn't next to him and spun around, arching an eyebrow.

Rosier was a few feet away, watching the departing figure of a girl with short, curly brown hair. "Florence," he said quietly, his eyes following the gentle sway of her hips. "I'm going to go see what she's up to." He gave Snape an apologetic shrug and took off in her direction.

Not exactly surprised, Snape watched Evan catch up to Florence before turning back towards the Common Room. As he walked, he reviewed the exam in his mind, pondering whether or not he should have added famous Ministry cases that involved the Polyjuice Potion to one of the essay questions. He was nearing the corridor that contained the Slytherin House passageway when he heard the sound of footsteps quickly approaching from behind.

"Snape!" Hearing his name, he paused and turned around.

Lily was quickly striding up the corridor. "Here," she continued, holding out a roll of parchment as she caught up to him. He took it from her and nodded, turning the parchment over in his hands. They both stood there staring at each other rather uncomfortably.

Lily's cheeks dimpled slightly. "How did you do?" she asked finally.

"Fair enough." He frowned slightly, and it suddenly dawned on him that she was waiting for him to return the courtesy. "You?"

"I was going to say fair, but if that's how you think you did then I'm in for a rude awakening this summer holiday," she said. "I can't thank you enough for lending me your notes," she added. "I was really in a bind, and you were a life-saver."

He must have looked perplexed, because she gave him a small smile and continued. "Your work is incredible. I always thought that I had a knack for taking notes, but obviously…" she shook her head slightly. "Well, anyway, I think my marks will be decent, if not only because I used the extra information I read about in your notes." She waved a hand at the notes he was now holding. "They were really interesting."

"That's good," he replied. He wasn't sure how to handle her compliment, and decided to ignore it instead.

"Listen, Snape?"

"Mm?"

"I was wondering, should my marks allow me to continue with Potions next year, if I would be able to borrow your notes every week or so? They're so much better than mine. I swear, I know more about Professor Slughorn's private life than Potions class. You have quite a few details I wasn't aware of."

It was interesting that Evan's didn't have enough faith in her work that she'd assume she would enter NEWT level Potions next year. Frankly, he thought that it was absurdly modest, considering she was one of the better witches in their year. At least she appreciated quality notes when she saw them; he added to Slughorn's notes when he deemed it necessary. He didn't mention that, however. "His private life?" he repeated, slightly curious as to how she would come upon that information.

"From the Slug Club." Lily blushed and bit her lip. "It's just a silly group, really. A few students get together and listen to various brags and boasts." Her mouth quirked to the side as though she immediately regretted her confession. "He's an excellent professor, though."

Severus knew of the Slug Club and was not impressed with most of its members. It seemed to be a group for people with social and political connections. He was, however, mildly curious as to how a Muggle-born like Evans had achieved slug status. "So you're a slug?" he asked.

Lily's freckled cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "You could say that." She paused thoughtfully. "He's mentioned that he's intrigued by my skill as a Muggle-born witch," she paused, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, "but I think he's got a soft spot for people with spirit. At least, he's mentioned that before."

Snape stared at her stupidly, wondering if she was implying something he'd rather not know about. She must have realized it, because she put her face in her hands and shook her head quickly so that her hair fell in front of her face.

"Oh no," she muttered, "no, no, no."

Her mortification was mildly amusing, and he couldn't help but smirk. "I don't care to know any more about your private life," he said. She groaned quietly. "And yes, you may borrow my notes," he added. "But the same rules will still apply."

Internally, Severus was shocked. He didn't know what had come over him. Why on earth had he just agreed to lend her his notes next year? He heaved a large sigh and resisted imitating her and pulling his hands down the length of his face. It had to be all of the testing, yesterday's events…he was entirely too stressed, obviously.

While he was pondering how to recant his offer, Lily glanced up at him and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She was still quite red. "Thanks," she replied slowly. She smiled at him before turning back to where she had come from. "Good luck on the practical exam," she called over her shoulder, leaving Severus alone in the dark corridor, flummoxed over why he hadn't simply refused her offer.

His shoulders slumped as he watched her go and he shook his head slowly. He would just have to cling to the tiny hope that she wouldn't make it into N.E.W.T. level potions.

* * *

The potion in his cauldron turned a fantastic orange shade as he made his final clockwise stir. Severus carefully retracted his ladle and set in on the table next to his cauldron. He had exactly three minutes to let the potion simmer and he would be finished with the Potions practical. 

The air in the room hung thick and heavy around the fifth year students. A dozen different smells wafted around them, the worst caused by the cloud of black smoke rising from Lupin's cauldron. The pale-faced boy was frowning seriously, eyeing his potion with glum resignation. It was evident to Snape that Lupin hadn't added the sneezewort properly, judging by the creamy white shade his potion had turned. Snape watched him for a moment before turning back to his potion.

The three minutes had passed, and he dipped his ladle back into his potion, deftly pouring the specified amount into the bottle for analyzation. He walked up to the professor, carefully sheltering the bottle between his long fingers.

"Hold it up, please" Professor Quinn ordered, narrowing his eyes at Snape's concoction. Snape held out the bottle and Quinn grabbed it, twisting it around in his hands. "Hm. Very good. I rarely see a fifth year who can attain the exact shade and consistency as you've managed. Well done." He scribbled a note in his log, and nodded toward the large basin sink. "Go on and clean up. You're excused."

"Thank you, professor." Snape straightened up proudly as he was praised. He had known that he would do well, and by the looks of it, probably had the best looking potion in the class. He returned to his table with glittering eyes and a smile that barely curled up at the sharp corners of his mouth.

The line of students waiting to have their potions graded was growing steadily down the aisle between Snape's and Lupin's tables. As he scraped away the extra ginger root cuttings to throw in the bin, he overheard a hushed conversation between none other than Potter and Black.

"It didn't work, Padfoot," Potter said quietly.

Sirius shrugged. "Don't get worked up over it," he replied. "There are plenty of other girls out there."

"Yes, but she went to Snape instead, of all people!" James whispered breathlessly. "Snivellus!"

Severus, who had been mid-scrape, froze, listening intently.

Sirius made a kind of sympathetic clicking noise with his tongue. "A terrible error in judgement on her part," he agreed. "But, looking at the past week's events, I'm willing to bet that she's still angry with you."

"It's not my fault she hasn't got a sense of humour about those things," James huffed.

Sirius shrugged. "So she's not perfect. Not everyone is as lucky as you are, Prongs." He gave a lopsided grin, the kind that caused most girls at Hogwarts to wither at his feet.

Severus couldn't help but let out a derisive snort. Both Potter and Black turned to him, and Black's eyes flashed menacingly.

"Something funny, Snivellus?" Black asked.

"Other than your ego, you mean?" Severus replied, pulling himself to his full height and looking Black in the eye.

"You're just sore because yours is bruised from yesterday," Black replied nastily. "Though taking your personality and social life into consideration, it was probably non-existent to begin with."

Severus clenched the cutting knife he had been scraping up roots with so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "Let's hope that when you return home for the summer mummy and daddy teach you a lesson about what it's like to be non-existent," he replied, jeering.

Sirius twitched, and he turned to set down his bottle. "Fuck you, Snape." Potter, who was still standing next to him, looked positively red in fury.

"Funny, I thought that was an offer you only extended to other Gryffindors," Snape hissed back, nodding towards Potter and then to where Lupin was standing, bottling his sickly looking potion.

Black's head snapped back; and he let out angry growl. Snape saw him move to grab his wand, and quickly reached into his own pockets. In a flash, his wand was out and ready. Both boys stood opposite one another, wands levelled each other's throat. Snape's opposite hand was still clutching the knife, shaking with rage. A number of students turned to watch them curiously, and quiet murmuring surrounded them.

Potter was still holding his potion, and though he looked absolutely livid, he laid a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Don't waste your time, Sirius. Not now. You'll risk your O.W.L.s."

"I don't care about the bloody O.W.L.s," Sirius spat. "This stupid, greasy bastard thinks that he can make comments like that—"

"--Stop it!" a new voice spoke up. Snape caught a flurry of red hair out of the corner of his eye and within seconds Evans was standing between he and Black, hands planted firmly on her hips. Her eyes were narrowed dangerously, and she gave a look to each boy that could easily warrant death.

"I am so sick and tired of you lot being at each other's throats all of the time. You," she turned to look at Sirius and Potter, "need to stop being such bullies. And you," she turned again, looking Snape dead in the eye. "You need to stop provoking them."

Snape bristled. Wasn't it just yesterday that she said she wouldn't become involved anymore? "Do not tell me what to do, Evans." He did not appreciate her barging into his fight again. "Surely you don't want to make me do something that I won't regret?" He watched Lily's face, and for a moment, she seemed shocked. Then, as quickly as the shock had registered on her face, it was gone, and she glowered at him.

"Don't talk to her like that!" James barked at the same time another voice spoke up, "You're putting yourself in a compromising situation, Evans." Lestrange had walked up from behind Snape and was surveying Lily callously. "A girl like you needs to be careful at times like these," he added.

Snape's outstretched wand arm twitched, and his gaze flickered to Lestrange. Now was not the time to make subtle innuendos. Even though Severus was annoyed with Evans, Lestrange's comment put him ill at ease. Lily looked as if she had understood the remark perfectly; her lips were pressed into a thin, straight line.

James, however, looked stricken by Lestrange's statement and placed his potion onto the table behind him with a crack. He was clearly ready to come to blows. Next to Snape, Lestrange pushed up his sleeves.

"Is there a problem here?" Professor Slughorn's large body parted through the crowd of students, and he moved his gaze from Lily, to James and Sirius, to Snape and Rabastan.

Lily turned to Professor Slughorn. "A battle of egos, professor, as wits don't seem to be present at the moment."

The professor gave a little chuckle. "Thank you, Miss Evans." He looked at the boys. "None of you wants your actions today to impinge upon your O.W.L. grades, am I right, my dear fellows?"

James shook his head and Lestrange made a non-committal grunt, however, neither Snape nor Black said anything. They both stood perfectly still, eyeing each other with utmost contempt.

"Wands down, boys," Slughorn continued. "Severus, you don't want to make me take points from the house, do you?"

Severus certainly didn't feel like lowering his wand, but then again, he had no desire to lose House points; Gryffindor and Slytherin were neck in neck for the cup. "No, sir," he replied, dropping his arm and letting it hang by his side.

Black did the same.

"Please clean up then, Mr. Snape. You too, Mr. Lestrange," Slughorn said. "Mr. Black and Mr. Potter, see to it that Professor Quinn gives you your marks and blow off your steam somewhere else besides my classroom. It's a lovely day outside." He eyed both groups of boys shrewdly before grabbing Lily by the elbow. "Miss Evans, my dear, I heard the most marvellous story that I thought I would share with you," and he led her out into the corridor, already prattling on about a letter he'd just received from one of his former students.

As soon as Slughorn was out of earshot, Black threw Snape a dirty look. "We'll finish this later, Snivellus," he said, voice lowered threateningly.

"I'm petrified, Black," Severus replied waspishly.

"I'd stay away from the dungeons, if I were you," Lestrange added, cracking his knuckles.

Potter nearly laughed. "I'm sure we can handle whatever you have in store for us." With that, he picked up Sirius's bottle and handed it to him. "C'mon. We're wasting our time with miserable company." Sirius hesitated, looking as though he wanted to pound both Slytherins to bits. Tossing Snape one more look of pure loathing, he stalked off towards James in the queue.

Lestrange watched them for a moment, and then looked down at Snape, his mouth twitching at the corners. "Twice in two days, Snape. Twice in two days."

Though Lestrange's comment seemed innocent enough, it was, Severus presumed, a discreet jibe. Snape saw no point in replying, and didn't allow his inner thoughts to betray his face. Instead, he returned to his table, picking up the rest of his belongings.

If Black and Potter wanted a fight, so be it. He would be ready for them, and he would give them such a severe hexing that their entire holiday would be spent at St. Mungo's.

He just hoped that Evans, cheeky little Gryffindor prefect, would have sense enough to leave him be.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who continues to review this story. I appreciate your comments. 


	3. The Problem with Fate

Disclaimer: All HP property belongs to JK Rowling, and I do not receive any sort of profit from using her lovely characters.

**Chapter Three: The Problem With Fate**

_And fate has led you through it  
You do what you have to do_

The entire Slytherin House was not in a good mood. It was the Leaving Feast and the term had not ended as they had hoped it would. The silver and green clad students sat sullenly at their table while their rivals whooped and crowed in celebration. They might have been in better humour had the Ravenclaws been in first place, and even Hufflepuff would have been ridiculously laughable, but having Gryffindor place first resulted in more than a fair amount of resentment and hostility.

Bellatrix, who was sitting at the end of the table with the sixth and seventh years, had hissed her displeasure to the entire house while Dumbledore gave his closing speech. She was not pleased that Slytherin lost the race for the House Cup her final year at Hogwarts, especially since she was Head Girl and had put forth a lot of effort to ensure a Slytherin win.

Rodolphus draped his arm around her shoulders consolingly, but it had no effect on her mood whatsoever. She continued to glare unpleasantly at anyone she happened to make eye contact with. Few dared to. In fact, the entire house resorted to speaking in hushed tones over their dinners as not to upset her any further. No one particularly fancied a well-placed curse and a trip to Madam Pomfrey.

Having already been on the receiving end of not one, but two of Bellatrix's angry tirades, Severus, Rabastan, and Evan were slumped down at their table, glowering at each other petulantly. A girl had never spoken to them so crudely before, and though none of them was willing to stand up to her, they did not appreciate such a harsh lecture. Instead, they chose to take out their frustration on each other.

"Wankers," growled Rabastan into the mouth of his goblet.

"Have a look at them," said Rosier bitterly. "They think they're so brilliant." He eyed the Gryffindor table, or more specifically, the female end of the Gryffindor table. Angry or not, it didn't stop him from ogling them mercilessly. Snape frowned at him.

"Well, we might have had a chance at securing the cup had you not been caught necking with Florence by Professor Flitwick," he said flatly.

Rosier bristled. "Now see here," he began, pointing his fork directly at the end of Snape's nose, "it's not my fault that Flitwick came back to the Charms classroom. We thought he'd gone."

"Is it your fault that you had her pinned to the table with your hands up her shirt?" Lestrange asked wryly. Rosier turned pink and shook his head quickly, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish and sputtering incoherently.

"Then I suppose it wasn't your fault that you both were on top of Flitwick's Charms manual, either," Snape added. Nearly all of the Slytherins around them began to laugh, and Florence, who was in earshot and evidently listening to the boys' conversation, looked positively murderous and turned away from them huffily.

"You were in the hall, Snape," retorted Rosier. "You could have warned us."

"And chanced sighting you both at it? I'd rather jump off the astronomy tower."

"You'd better not let Bellatrix hear you could have prevented it," Rabastan muttered, "or she'll _push_ you off the astronomy tower."

"I'm not afraid of Bellatrix," said Severus, though he lowered his voice substantially just in case she was listening.

"You should be," Rabastan replied. He shrugged a shoulder and sighed. "Besides, Rosier, it's your own fault that you have to feel up Florence every time you both find yourself alone together."

Rosier stabbed at a piece of pie with his fork. "You're all just jealous."

"Jealous of Florence?" Rabastan repeated. "I hardly think so."

Both Snape and Rabastan glanced at Florence surreptitiously. At the moment she was speaking in a low whisper to Narcissa Black, Bellatrix's little sister. Rabastan's gaze lingered on Narcissa's long blonde hair as she carelessly tossed it over her shoulder. She must have noticed the attention that she was getting because she gave the boys a coy smile before returning her interest to Florence. Snape looked away awkwardly, but Rabastan continued eyeing both girls steadily. "Florence looks like common trash," he mused.

"Only because you're comparing her to Narcissa," Rosier grumbled through his pie.

"There's really no comparison," Rabastan replied.

"Jealous," Rosier reiterated, setting down his fork and standing up. He threw the Slytherin boys a look and walked over to where Florence was sitting, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. She turned around and gave him a dirty look, which Snape thought was quite reasonable considering the fact that all of Evan's friends had been talking about her, and not all that nicely. With a finesse that only Rosier could manage, he leaned down and whispered something in her ear that earned a reluctant giggle. A moment later she had scooted down the bench to make room for him to sit. Rosier straddled it, looking smug as he leaned in and put his arm around her waist.

Severus watched this cynically. Rosier had been involved in more relationships than the rest of his fifth year dorm mates put together. Granted, Snape wasn't anything close to a womanizer, Lestrange wasn't exactly the romantic type, and Julius Carrow, their fourth roommate and fifth year prefect, mostly kept to himself. Still, Severus assumed that this one, like all of the rest of Rosier's relationships, would be short-lived.

"Snape."

Lestrange gave Severus a sharp jab to the ribs, drawing him out of his thoughts. "What?" Severus snapped, arching an eyebrow.

It didn't seem to matter to Rabastan that he was irritating Severus. "Black and Potter haven't tried anything else, have they?"

Severus followed Rabastan's gaze to the Gryffindor table. The boys were busy shovelling food into their mouths, occasionally telling a joke or engaging in conversation with one of the other Gryffindors at the table.

Severus shook his head. "No." Both Potter and Black had made themselves scarce the last few days of school, something that both relieved Severus and made him incredibly suspicious. "Unlike some people," his eyes flickered back to where Florence and Rosier were sitting, "they seem to have been concerned with winning the House Cup."

Rabastan nodded. "I was thinking that we should give them a proper send off during the train ride home." His lips twisted into a grim smile. "Only if you're up for it, of course."

Severus silently deliberated this. He had, in all honesty, planned on holing himself up in a compartment somewhere to mentally prepare himself for the summer holiday. Unlike the majority of his housemates, he did not have a lavish home to return to and neither was he spending the holiday on some exotic vacation. Spinner's End was part of the run-down, back-to-back housing in West Yorkshire, a community that was reliant on the textile mill not far down the road.

Severus loathed it. It was incredibly difficult pretending that he had been raised with the same posh lifestyle as the rest of his classmates. His books and supplies were second-hand, his robes were worn, and the rest of his clothing was practically hanging together by threads. While his housemates exchanged letters and packages with their own personal owls, Severus corresponded by Hogwarts' owls. On the rare occasion that he did receive mail, it was never a parcel filled with sweets or other gifts.

Truthfully, the only new purchase the Snapes had made before Severus entered Hogwarts was his wand, a secret gift from his mother.

In spite of his dilapidated belongings, Severus learned to put on airs well enough, and he could now feign disdain for "common folk" as well as the rest of his housemates, if not better. Most of the Slytherins were so involved with their own lives that they didn't bother to question his background. If they did, he would choose his words wisely, avoiding admitting to anything that would reveal his indigent upbringing.

It was a greater challenge skirting around another simple matter: His father, Tobias Snape, was a muggle. No one in the Slytherin House was aware of that fact, and Severus intended it to stay that way.

"Well?" Rabastan repeated, jabbing Severus again. "Are you up for it or not?"

Severus sighed and thinned his lips. "We'll see," he replied finally.

* * *

Severus had packed all of his belongings and was now standing in the front hall, dropping his trunk off with the other students' things. There was an enormous mountain of luggage piled in the corner, as well as owl cages, wrapped parcels, and the occasional stray item. He tapped his battered trunk lock with the end of his wand, muttering a hex under his breath. If anyone attempted to pick the lock, his or her fingers would fuse together so that they resembled mitts. He almost hoped that someone would be thick enough to try it.

There were at least two-dozen other students milling around him, exchanging addresses and saying their last minute goodbyes. One small first year was crawling around on his hands and knees, looking for his rat that had escaped in all of the commotion. Some of the students had already changed into their muggle clothing, and there was so much bare skin showing that Severus was surprised Rosier wasn't lurking around taking pictures.

"Muggles," a soft voice spoke up next to him. "Their sense of fashion is appalling."

Snape glanced over and noticed Regulus, who was levitating his expensive-looking trunk so that it teetered on the edge of some of the other luggage. The young boy steadied it with a hand, his blue-grey eyes following the pale legs of two girls walking by, both of whom were wearing very short skirts.

"Do you think so?" Snape asked. Like Regulus, he was still wearing his school robes. Half-blood though he may be, he felt much more comfortable in wizard clothing.

Regulus's brows knitted and he looked up at Snape. "You don't?" he asked uncertainly.

"I really don't care about it one way or the other," Severus replied bluntly.

"Oh," Regulus faltered, clearly anxious about making a good impression on his older housemate, "well, I suppose you're right, of course. Muggle fashion isn't that important in the grand scheme of things."

"I should hope not."

"Right then," Regulus said, giving Severus a nervous smile before dropping his gaze to the floor. The young boy's cheeks were tinged with pink. Severus regarded him silently, waiting for the real reason behind Black's conversation. Surely he didn't really expect a discussion over muggle fashion.

Regulus coughed into his hand and glanced at the doorway to the grounds. "Should we go?" he continued, "It's early enough that we shouldn't have trouble finding an empty carriage."

Severus hadn't planned on finding company for the trip home so early, but he knew it was inevitable. He considered unnerving the fourth year into submission, thus making it a quiet trip home. Regulus's company was preferable compared to some of the other Slytherins, however. The young boy rarely gave Severus any cheek and was smart enough to know when to hold his tongue.

"All right," Severus agreed at last, walking towards the doors. He crossed the threshold and marched out onto the grounds, squinting his eyes to in order to relieve them from the glaring sun, which was beating down upon the students mercilessly.

Regulus brightened a great deal and trotted forward so that he was walking at Severus's side. "It's always a little depressing leaving, isn't it?" He looked over his shoulder at the towering stone walls of the castle. "No magic for an entire summer."

Severus nodded and gave Regulus a sidelong glance. "Surely it's not that dull at your house?"

"Well, no," Regulus paused thoughtfully, "it's not. It's just that Sirius will be home for the summer, and Grimmauld Place will be up in arms."

"Really."

"He didn't come home over Christmas, which, to tell you the truth, was a bit of a relief. When he's home it's all arguments and slamming doors. My mother and father didn't even mention him once." Regulus grimaced, following Severus to the line of carriages not far ahead of them. "Now that he's coming home they won't be able to pretend he doesn't exist."

"Pity," replied Severus. He thought back to his argument with Sirius the week prior. "Perhaps they'll toss him out," he added as an afterthought. They reached an empty carriage and he gestured to the door for Regulus to climb in.

"Perhaps," Regulus agreed, clambering into the carriage. His voice seemed hollow and detached, and the sharp features of his face looked glum.

Severus followed him in and sat on the opposite bench. Regulus remained silent, offering a pained-looking smile before gazing out the window at the growing number of students approaching. Severus observed him wordlessly, reflecting on his behaviour. Regulus, it seemed, was not as hardheaded as his brother, or even Bellatrix for that matter. Though there was clearly a grudge between brothers, he appeared to be a little regretful of the growing distance between them. Personally, Severus thought it was idiotic; he couldn't imagine a worse person to be related to than Black, except, perhaps, Potter.

Lost in thought, Severus turned away from Regulus and stared out the window at the calm waters of the lake. The surface reflected the blue, cloudless sky, and the squid appeared to be basking in the warm water near the shore. Regulus was right; it _was_ unfortunate that the students couldn't stay at Hogwarts year round if they wanted to. The magical world was much more inviting, and even if he wouldn't be able to perform magic, it was preferable to his tiny house on Spinner's End. Severus sighed and shut his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool glass. He simply detested going home for the summer.

Outside of the carriage there was a sudden increase in noise, and two students who must have been roughhousing caused the carriage to rock back and forth. Severus could hear an older voice calling out to the students causing the raucous, and the scuffle quickly faded. Instead, the sounds of two girls chattering merrily crescendoed until a soft voice floated in through the doorway.

"Would you boys mind if we joined you?"

Severus opened his eyes and shifted so that he could see who was speaking. There, silhouetted in the sunlight, stood Narcissa and Florence.

He clenched his jaw tightly, wondering if the gods were set on giving him a hard time today.

"Not at all," Regulus answered politely, gesturing to the two open seats. He glanced at Severus, who jerked his head up into a nod, confirming the invitation.

"Thank you," Narcissa said with a smile. She carefully stepped into the carriage and took a seat next to Regulus. She immediately began to press the folds out of her silvery robes, surveying both boys silently. Severus had the funny feeling that he was being appraised.

Florence poked her head into the carriage after Narcissa. Her mess of curls was sticking up in all directions and her school robes were askew. She looked so dishevelled that Snape couldn't help but wonder if she had been saying last minute goodbyes to Rosier. At least she hadn't dressed up for the train ride home, he thought approvingly. One would have thought they were going to a fancy dinner party by the look of Narcissa's wardrobe.

Florence paused wearily at the door before sitting next to Snape. She seemed to be about as thrilled with the arrangement as he did. "Hello," she said shortly. "Sorry to bother you."

"The other carriage we tried had Longbottom and McKinnon in it," Narcissa added with a scandalous sniff. "We could hardly sit with the Gryffindors after the House Cup _incident_." She gave Florence a meaningful look before settling back into her seat for the ride.

"You might've been able to," said Florence, who flushed at Narcissa's subtle accusation. "Longbottom nearly fell out of his seat when he saw you." Her brown eyes glittered humorously. "Marlene had to steady him; did you see?"

"He's always been a little twitchy around girls," Regulus mused.

"It's unfortunate that it didn't render him unconscious," Snape said quietly. He hadn't intended on joining the conversation, but couldn't help himself. Regulus shook his head in amusement.

Narcissa's blue eyes twinkled slyly. "It was absurd, really. I hadn't even said anything yet." She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "You'd have thought I was Bella."

The carriage gave a sudden jolt and began rolling towards the Hogwarts Express. Huddled in his corner, Severus returned his gaze to the landscape as the others continued to talk.

"Speaking of Bella," Regulus said, lowering his voice, "I heard rumours of an engagement this past week. Have you heard anything about it?"

"Yes, that," Narcissa answered smoothly, "I have a feeling Rodolphus will be over to ask for her hand in marriage within the next week or so."

"You don't say?" Regulus looked surprised.

Narcissa smiled knowingly, showing a perfect set of white teeth. "You mustn't mention it to your mother or father, but she's already begun planning."

Florence piped up from beside Severus. "She told you that?"

"Of course not," said Narcissa lightly. "I overheard her speaking about it with Rodolphus. They were talking about an engagement party and a special guest of honour."

Regulus wrinkled his nose. "A guest of honour? That's uncustomary, isn't it?"

"It must be someone important," Narcissa agreed, stressing the word important. Snape stole a quick glance at the cousins, who were exchanging curious looks with one another.

"You don't think--" Regulus began. His mouth dropped in awe.

"--Sshh," Narcissa quieted him, placing her hand on his forearm. "I'm not certain yet, but it's a possibility." Her gaze flickered from her cousin to Snape and finally to Florence. "This is completely confidential," she whispered.

Florence's eyes were as wide as galleons. "Oh!" she breathed.

"If it's confidential," Snape asked, "then _why_ are you talking about it openly?" The same uneasy feeling he'd had when Rabastan had threatened Evans returned, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Oh, Snape," Narcissa admonished, "you both are sure to be invited. Most of the Slytherins will be. You can't say that you're not in the least bit interested."

She was right, he realized; in all truth, he was very interested. If the guest was whom they all surmised, it would be very interesting indeed. Both Narcissa and Regulus were watching him curiously, and he replied with an ambiguous shrug.

"I never said that."

Regulus patted Narcissa's hand on his forearm, nodding. "I'm interested, too," he said. "And I knew you would be Snape." He smiled at Severus. "After all, you know as many dark spells as Bellatrix does."

"Don't let her hear you say that," Narcissa warned him with a look. "You know how she hates competition."

"I'm not competing with anyone," Severus replied.

Narcissa pulled her hand away from Regulus and folded her arms in her lap primly. "It's not that you are, Snape," she said frankly. "It's that you could."

"You do have a bit of talent," admitted Florence. "Anyone who doesn't see that has gillyweed for brains."

"Yeah," Regulus agreed, "I wish that I knew as much about the Dark Arts as you."

Narcissa laughed. "Regulus, you ninny, you're the best one at Defence Against the Dark Arts in our year."

"That doesn't mean that I can't learn more," Regulus responded, giving Severus a hopeful look.

The entire carriage grew silent, contemplating what had been said. Severus pondered it all pensively. It was true, he did know a lot about the Dark Arts, and he had made it his personal goal to learn more every day. He was rather good at duelling, with quick reflexes and a vast catalogue of curses and other spells. Did the other Slytherins really see his talent as a valuable asset? He almost smiled.

"All it takes is a little potential," he said finally. Regulus grinned at him.

Florence, who seemed bored by all of the talk, cleared her throat and changed the subject. "Narcissa," she asked, "do you think Lucius Malfoy will be at the party?"

Regulus gave a loud snort and muttered something inaudible under his breath. Lucius Malfoy was the definition of pretentious, with extravagant clothing and a pompous manner. Snape didn't know him very well, though he was a popular topic of conversation by most of the Slytherin girls, infamously so, in the boys' opinions.

"Oh, I hope so," breathed Narcissa. "I do hope so." She brushed her hair back from her pale face, and her eyes were sparkling.

"Considering that he's from one of the most wealthy pure-blooded families, that's almost a guarantee," Regulus pointed out. His nose was wrinkled in disgust.

"And charming!" said Florence, at the same time Narcissa whispered, "and handsome!"

Both girls giggled lightly, and Snape took that as his cue to turn back to the landscape.

* * *

Narcissa and Florence thanked the boys hastily before climbing out of the carriage and advancing into the throng of students queuing up to board the scarlet train.

Severus watched them go, breathing a sigh of relief. The carriage ride had made him very aware of how he was severely lacking in charm and social graces. It wasn't as terrible as he'd thought it might be, but Narcissa's presence made him uncomfortable. He simply wasn't used to being around girls, and it irritated him much in the same way Evans's presence did.

Thankfully, Narcissa didn't seem to be interested in his actions in the same way Evans was, if she truly was interested in him at all. If he had called Narcissa a nasty name, she would have ignored him and likely sought out revenge later. Not Evans, however. Evans wanted to talk things out; Evans expected him to express his regret for calling her mudblood.

"Not bloody likely," he muttered to himself. He was not soft, and he had no intention of letting her persistence affect him.

"Sorry?" Regulus, who'd been standing beside him, looked perplexed. "Did you say something?"

Severus blinked and shook his head quickly. "Nothing," he said, waving off his comment with a dismissive hand, "I was merely thinking aloud."

Regulus seemed to be satisfied with that answer. "Let's go find a compartment, then," he said, joining the queue.

The queue moved quickly, and once they were on the train Severus and Regulus didn't have to walk far to find an empty compartment. They settled in for the ride, and Severus pulled out his wand and waved it lazily at the door. It snapped shut. It was probably the last time he'd use magic until September, he thought moodily.

"You're not meeting anyone else, then?" Regulus asked, staring at the closed door.

"Lestrange may be in here later," Snape answered, thinking of the tentative plans. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, attempting to clear his thoughts. For some odd reason, he didn't feel like cursing Potter and Black and making another huge scene on the train. This time he longed for something subtler. He thought about it silently, listening to Regulus rustle around on the other bench.

Snape's peace lasted all of five minutes, when there was a rap on the door. It slid open and Lestrange popped his head into the compartment. He jabbed a finger in the air towards Snape. "He's not sleeping, is he?" he asked Regulus in disbelief.

Snape opened an eye and peered at Rabastan's finger testily. "Not with you around I'm not."

"Good," Rabastan replied, taking a seat next to Regulus. "I can't find Rosier. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I want to know where he is. Probably off with Florence."

"Very smart of you," agreed Snape. Regulus snorted in amusement.

"Black and Pettigrew are in the aisle a couple of compartments up," Rabastan continued, "and Potter's lurking by the prefect compartment." He eyed Severus shrewdly. "Have you given any more thought to my suggestion?"

Snape nodded. "Some," he said slowly.

"And?"

"I'm still thinking."

"Oh." Rabastan frowned and kicked his legs up so that they rested on Severus's bench seat. "That's not promising."

"Sorry," Snape said insincerely.

Regulus bit his lip and looked at Snape. "Actually, today might not be a good day pick a fight with Sirius," he said. "I'm sure he's already in a foul mood, having to come home and all."

Rabastan looked unimpressed. "So?"

"So," Regulus continued quietly, "his temper is going to be short."

Snape considered this. Sirius's reluctance to go home for the summer holiday could prove to be useful. "Perhaps," he murmured, "perhaps we should wait until we get to the platform." He lifted an eyebrow. "I'm sure that there's something that would hit him where it hurts, and he wouldn't be able to retaliate."

Regulus nodded, looking worried. "I s'pose so."

Rabastan, however, sat up eagerly. "Yeah!" he agreed, turning to Regulus, "in front of your parents."

"Maybe," Regulus said, "but I have to live with him for the rest of the summer, so I would rather not be involved." His brow wrinkled in concern.

"It looks like you already are," a new voice sneered from the doorway. Rabastan had neglected to shut the door behind him and Sirius was leaning on the doorframe next to Peter Pettigrew. He eyeballed Regulus, and his top lip curled up viciously. "Is this the lot you're hanging around these days?" His grey eyes flickered to Snape before he shook his head at his brother. "You're going to need a bath when you get home."

Severus stiffened. Perhaps he'd been unwise in thinking to wait until they reached the platform.

"Shut it," Regulus retorted tightly.

Rabastan had already stood up and was approaching the doorway, pushing up his sleeves. "Let's see how well you do with only this lump to support you, Black," he snarled, nodding at Pettigrew. The round-faced boy flushed and uttered something that sounded more like an undignified squeak.

"Lestrange," Severus said tiredly, "don't waste your time." He levelled his gaze with Sirius and gave him a superior smile. "He's clearly jealous that his brother has finally found a worthy role-model."

"Right," snarled Sirius. "You, a role model!" He laughed bitterly.

"Erm, Sirius?" Pettigrew butted in, his eyes darting to the side. "You might want to—"

"Budge along!" another voice snapped. "If you lot don't find a compartment, I'm going to speak with your parents as soon as I step off this train!" Frank Longbottom appeared in front of the doorway, pushing Peter along and grumbling under his breath.

"We were just chatting," laughed Peter nervously as he was pushed further down the aisle.

Frank obviously wasn't fooled by his feeble excuse. He placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Go," he reaffirmed.

Severus and Rabastan smirked at Sirius. "You heard him," Severus said silkily. "Go."

"I've got this under control, Snape," Frank said tiredly. He patted Sirius on the back again. "I just banished James to this end of the train, Sirius. Go keep him occupied, will you?"

Severus and Rabastan exchanged looks and snickered at Frank's remark, which angered Sirius even further.

"We'll talk about this later," Sirius hissed at Regulus before Frank pushed him out of sight. The elder Gryffindor paused in front of the doorway, glancing around at the Slytherin boys.

"Can we help you?" asked Lestrange, who was still on his feet.

"I doubt it," replied Frank. "Let's not start any trouble today, boys. I'm perfectly capable of speaking to your parents, too, you know."

"We're shaking, Longbottom," retorted Rabastan, narrowing his eyes into dark slits.

"Perhaps Carrow will have a talk with you, then," replied Frank with a sigh. "Regardless, I'm watching you."

Snape raised his eyebrows in challenge. "Watch away," he replied smoothly. Frank gave the boys another dark look before continuing on to the next trolley car.

Rabastan stood in the doorway and watched Frank leave. "I don't like him," he muttered. "Stupid git thinks he's so great. There's a rumour that he's going to be head boy next year, you know." He flopped back down onto the bench.

"It's only a rumour," Snape said pointedly. For some reason, Rabastan had always harboured a grudge against Longbottom, one that extended beyond the normal Gryffindor Slytherin rivalries. "Shut the door, will you? I don't want any other idiots popping in to say goodbye."

The next couple hours were uneventful. Severus slumped over in the corner of the compartment and pretended to be asleep while Rabastan and Regulus argued over Quidditch. After what seemed like ages, Severus was relieved to hear Rabastan beg off to find his brother. Regulus soon followed, shutting the door quietly behind him. Severus cracked an eye open, peered at the empty compartment, and sighed contentedly.

He began to run through his plans once the train reached platform nine and three quarters. He'd have to go through the barriers, change into muggle clothing, and then catch another train towards Halifax. He was rather sure that neither of his parents would be there to meet him; at least, they hadn't bothered to the year before, and had went so far as to buy a ticket for his trip. His father would be working, god willing, and his mother had mentioned finding some part time work for an herbalist in her last letter.

It didn't really bother Snape that he had to go the trip alone. He preferred the solitude.

Neither Regulus nor Rabastan had returned to the compartment by the time the Hogwarts Express reached platform nine and three quarters. Severus gazed out the window absent-mindedly, watching the various families who were waiting to pick up their children. He noticed Regulus's mother, dark and formidable, standing next to her sister-in-law, who was fair like Narcissa. Longbottom's mother was also there, complete with her moth-eaten vulture hat and red handbag. She looked, Severus decided, absolutely ridiculous in the hideous ensemble. It was hard to miss her.

He scanned the crowd quickly for his mother, but he didn't see her in the crowd. The compartment door slid open behind him.

"'Lo," said Regulus breathlessly. "Sorry to leave you alone like that. I got tied up with Barty Crouch." He smiled apologetically at Severus and walked to the luggage rack to pick up his trunk. They had appeared as soon as the train slowed to a stop.

"I didn't mind," Severus assured him. He stood up and stretched, feeling his back pop into place, and reached up to retrieve his battered trunk. Regulus was already in the aisle, blocking it with his trunk so that Snape had room to exit.

Both boys lugged their belongings behind them, making their way off the trolley car.

"Well," Regulus said, looking over his shoulder, "have a nice summer. Perhaps I'll see you," he added with a mysterious smile. Waving, he set off in the direction of his family. Narcissa was already there, chatting with her mother and aunt amicably.

Pausing to survey the platform, Severus watched as the wizard families reunited. Muggle-borns, as well as a few half-bloods, had already started to run through the barrier. Not wanting to be spotted, Snape followed suit. He had almost reached the brick wall when someone rammed him with a trunk from behind.

A hot stab of pain shot through his calves and the backs of his knees, which had buckled beneath him, and he swore loudly. Glowering, he spun around to see who'd been so careless as to run into him. It was Sirius.

"Oops," Sirius said, his eyes glittering, "sorry." He gestured to his trunk. "It must have slipped on the trail of grease you were leaving."

"You'd better not let your mother see you speaking with me," Severus hissed angrily. "She might get her hopes up that you've come to your senses and embraced family tradition." He paused and sneered at Sirius. "Do you fancy yourself as the prodigal son?"

Sirius scowled. "She's fine with Regulus," he spat. "He seems to be turning out just how she wished I would."

"Better, you mean?"

Sirius twitched. "Leave him alone, Snape. He shouldn't have to idolize you; he might stop taking baths."

"Oh, ho, ho," Severus laughed dryly. "Is that all you can do? Make jokes about my appearance?" He clicked his tongue sympathetically.

"I'll show you what I can do if you start putting ideas into his head."

"He was born and raised with those ideas, Black. I'm not putting anything in his head."

"Maybe not, but you're certainly cultivating them." Sirius opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by his mother, who was calling his name. He shut it quickly and frowned.

"I'll teach Regulus whatever he wishes to learn," Severus replied quietly. "He needs a brotherly figure in his life."

Severus knew that his comment had touched a nerve when Sirius drew back his fist, ready to come to blows. Everything was going just as Severus had planned. Very quickly, he backed up and fell through the barrier, leaving a furious Sirius on the other side. He doubted that Sirius would follow; Mrs. Black was waiting for him.

With a twisted grin, Severus manoeuvred through the crowd of muggle parents waiting for their children to come through the barrier. Making sure that he was unnoticed, he ducked around a corner and entered a men's loo. It was a practiced art of his, vanishing into the scenery and becoming easily overlooked. He locked the door behind him and dropped his trunk to the floor. After rustling around in his pocket for the key, he pulled it out and inserted it into the rusty lock.

There, on top of his belongings, was a pair of worn black trousers and a grey cotton shirt. He pulled them out with a grimace and changed into them quickly. This was the part of his trip home that he dreaded the most. Changing into muggle clothing always made him anxious; he hated the risk of having another student recognize him dressed as a muggle. Of course, having muggles see him dressed as a wizard wasn't exactly an alternative.

He pulled at the waist of his trousers. They were sagging down his hips and he hadn't thought to bring a belt. Not only that, but it looked as though he had grown two inches since he'd last worn them; his bony ankles were clearly visible. Even his shirt seemed tight across his back, and he wiggled around in it uncomfortably. One thing was evident; he would have to make a trip to the thrift store to buy some new clothing over the summer. Preferably sooner than later, he decided, feeling constricted as he bent down to retrieve his trunk.

Severus opened the door and peeked his nose through the small gap. The corridor was empty, and there didn't appear to be any Hogwarts students mulling around on the platform ahead of him. Pressing his lips together in determination, he exited the loo and headed for his train at break-neck speed. His ticket was safely tucked away in his pocket, where he had placed it while packing.

His progress was slowed when he found himself on the heels of a very large and very slow old man. Growing impatient at the sudden change of pace, Severus yanked on his trunk and darted around him.

There was a loud thump and a distressed cry, and Severus found himself on the ground.

"Shit," he muttered, rubbing his sore arm. He looked up to see a blond haired man with familiar looking green eyes looking down at him reproachfully. "Sorry," Snape added. He glanced around to see where his trunk had landed.

"You should be careful, young man," the man answered. He extended a hand to help Snape up when another figure appeared from behind him.

"Snape?" a female voice spoke up.

Suddenly the green eyes registered in Severus's mind._ Oh no_, he thought desperately, _please, don't let it be her_, but when he faced the person who had spoken, his heart immediately sank to his bare ankles.

It _was_ Evans. She surveyed him with a peculiar look on her face while her father stooped to right Severus's trunk.

"Are you all right?" Mr. Evans asked Severus, managing a polite smile. Severus barely managed a nod in reply.

"You know him, Lily?" Mr. Evans added, realizing that Lily had called Severus by name. "Does he go to school with you?"

Lily nodded. "He's in my year," she said slowly, "though he's a Slytherin."

Severus's mind was racing, trying to think of a logical explanation for his appearance. He turned to Lily to make an excuse, but stopped when he noticed her look of annoyed disbelief. A grim realization slowly settled in the pit of his stomach. She obviously suspected the truth, and he doubted he could persuade her to think otherwise.

"Slytherin, eh?" Mr. Evans repeated, blissfully unaware of what was going on between his daughter and Severus. "So you're a rival?" Apparently Lily had told him about how Hogwarts worked.

"Something like that," Snape muttered. He grabbed his trunk and clutched it so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He felt like such a fool, standing there in shabby clothes that were too small for him.

"Well, I don't think I've ever run into someone from another house," Mr. Evans said with an interested look. "Nice to meet you, Mr…" he glanced at his daughter. "Snape, was it?"

"Yes, Dad," she answered shortly, still eyeing Severus. "Severus Snape."

"Severus, then," Mr. Evans replied lightly. "My name is Richard, by the way."

Snape nodded again. "It's…er…nice to meet you too, Mr. Evans," he replied, unwilling to use Lily's father's first name. Swallowing his pride, he forced himself to continue. "I…apologize for my…carelessness." He refused to even look at Lily at this point, instead bowing his head slightly to her father. He dearly wished he could escape from them both and forget that the entire episode had happened.

"I'm no worse for wear and tear," Mr. Evans quipped. He glanced at his daughter, whose eyes were still locked on Severus. "I'm going to take this to the car," he said, turning to Lily and kissing her on the forehead. "You can catch up." He gave Snape a small wave and walked off, whistling.

Severus shifted his feet uncomfortably, quite aware of Lily's unwavering gaze. "I've got a train to catch," he said.

"You are such a hypocrite," she replied crossly. Her arms were folded in front of her as she glared at him. "I can scarcely believe it. All this time you've been running around pretending to be a pureblood, acting like it made you better than everyone else."

Snape felt the blood rising to his face. How dare she criticize him for acting that way? It wasn't as if he'd had any other choice, being a Slytherin. Even if he had, he rather liked being able to fool them all. He'd much sooner embrace his wizard heritage than his muggle one. Evans couldn't possible understand; she was actually proud to be a muggle-born.

He fixed her with a long, cold stare and felt the blood rising to his face. "_Wrong_, Evans," he replied, his voice strained and tight with anger.

He pulled his trunk forward with a lurch. "I'm only _half_ of a hypocrite." And then, because he felt furious and reckless and embarrassed as well as a hundred other things, he flung his hand up in the air. "Tarra," he finished sardonically.

With that, he brushed past her and marched off to find his train, sincerely vexed that the whole façade he'd built for himself was about to crumble.

* * *

A/N: The song lyrics are (again) by Sarah McLachlan. They are from "Do What You Have To do", Surfacing, Arista Records, c. 1997

Again, many thanks to my reviewers. This fic is rated M because of language, though boys will be boys and there will be sexual references and things of that naturelater...


	4. Unsettled

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all rights to the Hpverse; I just play around with her ideas a bit.

**Chapter Four  
****Unsettled**

Severus scuffed the toe of his boot against the cobbled road, lugging his rattling trunk behind him. The ride home from King's Cross was the fastest one he could ever remember, and before he knew it he'd stepped off the train and started his long walk home. No matter how he tried to distract himself, he couldn't shake his current dilemma from his mind.

Evans had seen him.

Evans now knew he was a half-blood.

He had been foolish. He should never have started anything with Black. Sure, it had been satisfying, but it also caused him become too smug, and not only that, it caused him to run behind schedule. If he'd not been in such a hurry, he might have been able to avoid crashing into Evans's father. He groaned inwardly and wondered if she'd mention her discovery to anybody. How on earth would he be able to explain himself?

He placed his palm on his forehead and dragged it down the length of his face. What was wrong with him? He rarely wasted time uselessly fussing over a situation, and even less time worrying about a girl.

"Think, you fool," he muttered softly, voice overwhelmed by the low rumble of his trunk rolling over the cobbled road.

In the past he'd found that logical solutions were obtainable for most problems. If he wasn't able to come up with one, he'd manipulate the situation until he had it under control. Or close to it, anyway.

His only problem was that Lily Evans didn't strike him as the kind of person who would be manipulated easily. Frankly, Severus wasn't sure he'd even want to try it. His thoughts drifted back to the cross look on her face as she eyed him in his muggle clothing. No, he thought, she would certainly prove to be difficult. What could he say to her? 'Gee, Evans, I'm sorry I called you a mudblood. Now would you please keep your mouth shut about my heritage?' He snorted in disgust.

Did she contact many other students during the summer? Severus wondered. She wasn't on speaking terms with many Slytherins, of course. She did, however, hang around with the pride of Gryffindors, and associated with Black and Potter. He frowned grimly. If she mentioned their encounter to Black, the truth would spread faster than wildfire. It would probably reach Regulus, and possibly even Bellatrix and Narcissa. He shuddered to think of what would happen if the truth got around to Potter, or even worse, someone like Bertha Jorkins. He'd be ruined.

Things were not looking up. Not that he'd expected them to.

Severus approached an intersection and turned down a narrow road marked "Spinner's End." The terraced houses here were old and worn, the bricks already starting to crumble and fall out of the walls. He eyed the street with disdain and pressed his lips into a flat, thin line. Even though he'd been born and raised there, returning brought back very few pleasant memories. He wasn't on friendly terms with any of the neighbour boys--even in the muggle world his family wasn't what one would describe as popular.

He walked past the Radley house and eyed it jadedly. Jimmy Radley had been Severus's classmate in primary school. A big, hulking boy, Jimmy was the leader of a group of miserable berks whose ultimate goal was to bother anyone whom they felt was a weakling or underdog.

Predictably, Severus had been the target of their brutish taunting since he was quite young. The problem with Severus, however, was that he always managed to avoid their bullying and practical jokes in rather unexplainable ways. They didn't know he was a wizard, of course, but they did think that he was an unsightly, twitchy oddball who always had strange things happening in his presence. There was the time he'd muttered something under his breath and Jimmy's nose began to bleed uncontrollably. Jimmy nearly fainted from losing so much blood that day. Another time, a gang of boys surrounded him and the streetlights went out, leaving Severus to slink away into the shadows.

After that they backed off a little.

The windows on the Radley house were dark and solemn looking, giving the impression that no one was home. Severus wondered if Jimmy was employed by the mill now. Jimmy had never been college or university material, and around Spinner's End, most everyone worked at the mill, smart or no. Tobias, Severus's father, was a mill employee.

Severus approached the last house on the end of the road, slowing down to get a good look at it. It was small house, two up and two down, and like the other houses lining the cobbled road, it looked quite derelict. A few potted plants sat out front, browned and wilting, looking as though they could use a good watering. His parents had probably not been home enough to bother, he noted with some cynicism. Quietly, he skulked up to the door and turned the knob; as he suspected, it wasn't locked.

The house was quiet. Severus stepped into the front room and glanced around at his surroundings. A couple of bookcases lined the walls—though there didn't appear to be many new additions, he noted with some despondency. Severus had read nearly every book in the house, and sometimes his mother would bring home a new one, secretly placing it on one of the shelves to see if he'd notice, and also to hide it from Tobias, who'd rather that his "weedy" son go out into the sun and get some physical activity. Severus's gaze lingered on the sofa that he lounged upon while reading. Like the other furnishings that decorated the room, it was sparse and threadbare.

The front door closed with a soft click behind him and he released a long sigh.

Home sweet home, he thought bitterly.

Pulling on his trunk, he immediately began to lug it upstairs towards his room. Neither his mother nor his father seemed to be in the house at the moment, and unpacking seemed like the best idea. At the top of the landing Severus pushed open the door to his right and yanked his trunk in behind him, setting it down with a loud thump. Straightening up, he surveyed his room quietly.

Nothing had changed, really. His mother had put new linens on his mattress, and his room was neat and dust free. It was nothing compared to the immaculate housekeeping that the elves at Hogwarts managed, but it was comfortable enough.

He turned to the small nightstand beside his bed and spotted an abandoned book there. On top of it was a small piece of parchment. It was a note from his mother.

_Severus,_

_I had to work late this evening. Dinner is in the refrigerator and needs to be warmed in the oven. Your father should be home a little while after you've arrived, he picked up an extra shift at the mill. If you feel up to it, wait for me. I'd like to talk with you._

_Until then, have a look at this book. You might find it interesting._

Severus frowned and placed the note aside. A small part of him had been hoping that his mother would have at least been home to greet him. He sank down onto his bed and picked up the book, running his finger down the spine. _An Herbalists Guide to Home Remedies_, he read. He lifted an eyebrow sceptically. It was a muggle book. He wondered why his mother thought it would interest him. Muggles didn't know nearly enough about herbs and plants as wizards did, and they had no access to the strange and wondrous plants of the wizarding world. Severus thumbed through the book idly, scanning the pages and taking in the bits of information that the muggles recommended for things like bruises and headaches.

"'Lo?" a voice called from downstairs. "Eileen?"

Severus tensed and turned his head towards his doorway, shutting his book. His father was home. The sound of footsteps echoed up the stairs and Severus stood up, facing his door expectantly.

A tall man with black hair and a hooked nose poked his head into the room.

"Father," Severus said flatly.

"You're home," Tobias replied, looking surprised.

It was not a very keen observation, in Severus's opinion. He nodded curtly. "Yes."

Tobias stepped into the room and watched Severus, ruminating over what to say next. Finally, he shoved his dirty, calloused hands into his trouser pockets. "Your mum's not here."

"I know."

"Did you get home all right?"

"I'm fine."

Tobias eyed Severus quietly for a moment. "Unpack then. There's not enough room to swing a cat in here." His gaze drifted to the trunk on the floor, and Severus watched him wordlessly, waiting for his father to make a cutting remark. He was well aware of how his father felt about wizards. To his surprise, Tobias remained silent.

Snape gestured to the trunk carelessly. "I was about to unpack when you walked in."

"Best y' do," Tobias replied. He arched an eyebrow at Severus before exiting. The door to the next bedroom opened with a loud creak.

"And when you're done," Tobias's voice sounded from the bedroom, "put supper on."

* * *

Dinner conversation involved a substantial amount of effort put forth by both father and son. The two men were more alike than either liked to think, yet neither was comfortable in the company of the other. Needless to say, it was a rather quiet affair.

Severus watched wearily as his father refilled an empty glass with more liquor. Tobias's eyes were already getting a familiar glassy look.

He looked at Severus. "School going well?"

"As well as can be expected," Severus responded dully. He slouched over in his seat and poked at his dinner with little enthusiasm.

"You should perform above expectations," Tobias said, taking a sip from his glass. "People 'round here think we've sent you to some fancy school on a scholarship. You've been home for nearly two hours and you've hardly said a dozen words." He set the glass down with a loud clank. "Do you want them saying you're deaf and dumb? Wondering how in heaven's name you managed to be accepted into any school?"

Severus shrugged a shoulder. "Frankly, I'd rather they not talk about me at all."

Tobias frowned, tapping his fingers on the table. "Well, people talk. You can't stop that."

"Actually, you can," Severus said smoothly. He was quickly becoming tired of keeping his mouth shut while his father ranted on about such trivial things. What did it matter what the neighbours thought of him? "There's a spell that—"

"I don't care about spells," interrupted Tobias abruptly.

Severus bit back the rest of what he was going to say and pinched his lips together. "I've noticed."

Tobias ignored him. "Your mother insisted that we send you to that—that magic school and every year you come back more indifferent then when you'd left. Bloody cheeky, to boot."

"You agreed to send me," Severus said sulkily.

"I did, and don't you think that I don't regret it nearly every day. We could use the help around here." Tobias frowned. "Your mother started working to help pay for your schooling, you know."

Severus bowed his head, staring at the table. He had been expecting this of course, it was one of Tobias's favourite subjects, but even the mental preparation didn't stop him from feeling guilty and resentful. "Would you like me to get a job?"

"I'd like you to keep your grades up so that our work isn't for nothing. Unless your magic can produce money." Tobias mocked waving a wand around and snorted into his liquor glass. "Maybe your mother has been holding out on me."

Severus scowled at his father's foolish wand waving. "No." It occurred to him that his father had absolutely no idea how good his marks were in comparison with the rest of the students in his year. A wave of anger overcame him; he decided that his father's chiding comments didn't warrant any sort of recognition.

"How much of your wages do you drink away, father?" Severus asked waspishly. "Enough to buy me a new set of robes or a set of new books, perhaps?"

Tobias, who was just about to take a bite of dinner, became absolutely still. "What did you say?"

"I was merely wondering how much you spent on liquor every month. The amount must be remarkably high."

Tobias twitched as though he'd been hit. "Blimey, you are a rum'n." His dark eyes flashed angrily. "You'd best hold your tongue or you'll be in for a braying."

Severus merely blinked at him, clenching his jaw to keep from saying anything else. He was too old for his father to threaten him that way and not expect a fight in return.

"Well?" Tobias downed the rest of his drink and looked at Severus expectantly. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" He stood up and placed the palms of his hands on the table, shaking it with a jolt. "No more smart remarks?"

It was quite obvious that Severus had pushed Tobias to his limits and, knowing that his mother would return home soon, Severus decided to appease him.

"No."

Tobias leaned down so that his face was levelled with Severus's. Their noses were nearly touching, and Severus willed himself not to lower his gaze. He wouldn't say anything else to anger his father, but he certainly wasn't going to stand down.

"No what, Severus?"

Severus gritted his teeth. "No _sir_," he replied flatly.

Tobias nodded approvingly. "You will respect your elders, young man. It's a common courtesy." He lifted an eyebrow expectantly. "They still expect that of you where you go to school?"

Snape glared at his father. "Yes, _sir_."

He wasn't sure how he would endure this for the rest of the summer. Every holiday home it became increasingly difficult to withstand his father's ridiculous behaviour.

"You'd best remember your place in my house," Tobias snapped. Seemingly satisfied with his son's response, he stood up, shot Severus one last sneer, and walked out of the kitchen.

Severus shook his head after he was certain his father was gone. As if the man deserved any courtesies at all.

* * *

A hollow knock sounded from his bedroom door, and Severus looked up from the book he was reading. He was stretched out on his bed, reading by the light from the lamp on his bedside table.

"Severus?" a quiet voice spoke up. The door opened and his mother walked in. She and Severus shared the same long face and dark eyes, only her eyes had dark rings under them and the hollows of her pallid cheeks were sunken.

"Mother," he greeted, sitting up and setting the book aside. He eyed the subtle glint of the silver in her hair and the new wrinkles forming around her eyes. "How are you?"

"Tired, but aside from that I'm fine."

"You've lost weight."

"You've grown," she replied, ignoring his comment and fixing him with an intense stare. The corners of her sharp mouth twitched. "We'll have to buy you some new clothing." Severus felt strangely uncomfortable, noting how her gaze lingered around his bare ankles. Surely second-hand clothes wouldn't be a huge financial strain.

"That would be nice," he answered. He hadn't even mentioned the prospect to his father.

"How was your trip home?"

Severus shrugged. "Honestly?"

"I'd prefer it that way. It's up to you, of course."

"A Gryffindor girl saw me dressed in muggle clothing."

His mother's brows rose slightly, but the tone of her voice didn't give the impression that she was surprised. "She thought you were a pureblood?"

"She assumed so, yes."

"And you let her assume?"

"It didn't hurt anything."

Eileen sighed. "Severus, I realize that your background isn't like the rest of your schoolmates—"

Severus laughed bitterly as she continued, "—however, deceiving them all isn't going to help you in the long run."

Severus gave her a long look. "You of all people should know what it's like surrounded by purebloods, mother," he continued slowly, "and look at you." She gestured to the end of his bed and he grudgingly budged along so that she had room to sit down. She perched there stiffly, hands placed in her lap. Her long fingers and nails were stained with what Severus assumed to be herb extracts. His own hands often looked similar after long days in Slughorn's classroom.

"Are we going to argue about this again, Severus? If so, I'm going to excuse myself, make a cup of tea, and go to bed."

Severus glowered down at his bed sheets. She was right, of course, he was dredging up an old and long-standing argument. It'd begun when he was a teenager, extremely resentful that his mother had married a muggle, thus making life difficult for him. He was very bitter about the fact that everything came so easily to purebloods—flying, reputation, invitations into social circles, etc. He realized it was petty to blame her, but given his situation, she was the easiest person to unleash his fury on. It was a grudge that had the tendency to resurface.

"What do you know about memory charms?" he asked finally, letting the argument die out.

Eileen's thick brows furrowed and she gave him a reprimanding look, clearly indicating her disapproval of his question. "The mind is not something to play games with, Severus."

"I don't play games."

"But you do experiment, and I'd rather not have to visit you in Azkaban after addling some poor girl's brain. Use your head."

"I'm not going to Azkaban," he said, affronted. He'd heard of the prison before; Slytherins often told horrible tales of the old, dilapidated castle-turned-prison. Dementor tales were long-standing favourites on late Halloween nights. "I didn't really consider memory modification an option, anyhow. I was merely curious."

"You are always curious." She shifted on the bed so that she faced him. "Sometimes too much for your own good. You know that I don't mind you experimenting with spells and looking through my books, but I will be severely disappointed if you get yourself into a tight spot."

Severus grunted in assent. It would be too long before he saw Evans, anyhow. Besides, she was reasonably bright and had the potential to do something with her life, unlike the rest of the Gryffindors.

"You're smarter than that, Severus," Eileen continued. "You must always be able to get yourself out of a critical situation."

"I _know_." His voice rose in pitch as he became defensive.

It was her turn to drop the subject. She gave him one last cautionary look before taking the herb book from his hands and flipping it open. "I found this at the herbalist's shop. It has a good grasp on the medicinal properties of herbs, doesn't it?" She quirked her mouth to the side, turning pages absently. "You probably think it's primitive."

"It's a muggle book, mother."

"As I suspected." she laughed softly. "How was dinner with your father, out of curiosity?"

Severus made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

"That bad already?"

"Nothing short of a fiasco."

Eileen clucked her tongue, looking disappointed, but not surprised. "Were you being stroppy?"

"He was drunk," Severus replied.

"Which should've hardly surprised you," she answered. "If you goad him on it's only going to make it worse." She looked past Severus at the wall, as though she could see her husband sleeping in bed behind it. "His income pays for most of your schooling. Don't risk that. You have so much potential."

Severus's cheeks began to burn. Was everything about money? He wondered, had his mother left his father years ago, would he still have been able to attend Hogwarts? At least they could have gone back to the wizarding world. They could have had a normal, wizarding house and performed magic in it every day. In the future, Severus intended to make sure that his house was not a standard muggle one. For now, he was stuck living with a drunkard father who had no appreciation for the talents of his wife and son.

He raked his fingers through his hair and turned to his mother exasperatedly. "What am I to do, then? Sit around while he berates me!"

"If you must. Let your anger fuel your energy towards starting something productive."

"Like herbs?" he asked sardonically.

"If you cannot do magic for the summer, I should think working with herbs would be an adequate substitute."

"Perhaps."

"I'm glad you think so," Eileen said, suddenly looking satisfied, "because I've already told Mr. Montford, the man I work for, that you will be apprenticing for him this summer."

"What?" Severus snapped, looking at his mother. Was she mad? "You're joking!"

"I'm not. He seems rather happy to have the help, I might add. It will be good for you. You need to get out of this house."

Severus sniffed angrily. "You didn't bother asking my opinion?"

"No, I didn't, because I knew you would argue with me straight away and I figured one argument was much better than a dozen small arguments. Your father has even agreed to it."

"But it's a muggle shop!" Severus protested.

"I'm aware of that." Eileen gave her son a look that plainly said he was not going to be able to get out of working this summer. "It's in London, near Diagon Alley, Severus. You can always escape through the Leaky Cauldron if you're feeling overwhelmed by Mr. Montford." She paused thoughtfully. "I'll be the first to admit that he can be a bit peevish and is pretty set in his ways."

"Set in his ways?"

"Yes, set in his ways. I've tried to show him the benefits of using parts of poisonous plants--minimally of course--but he refuses to hear me out. He's worried about potential risks and fatalities." Both mother and son snorted, sharing the knowledge that some poisons were extremely effective when used moderately.

"And you think I'd be able to persuade him?"

"Of course."

Severus looked at her sceptically.

"You have a persuasive way about you, Severus. You're able to be very convincing when you need to be. It's a gift." Eileen's voice had a tone of finality to it.

"Thick-headed muggles," Severus muttered in disgust.

Eileen stood up and placed a hand on her son's shoulder. "Severus," she said lightly, "there are thick-headed wizards, too." She gave him a squeeze before walking to the door. "Good night."

"Night," he mumbled, watching her go. This summer was definitely not shaping up to be anything short of tolerable. Not only did he have to deal with his father, now he was expected to go work for some barmy old man who had no desire to experiment for the bettering of medicinal purposes. It was unfair. He sank back down onto his pillow and picked up the book, staring at it reproachfully.

He wished he was back at Hogwarts. He would take Lestrange's chainsaw-like snoring over Spinner's End's uncomfortable silence any day.

* * *

"No, no, no!" Mr. Montford walked over to Severus and peered over his shoulder for what had to be the umpteenth time that afternoon. The old man shook his balding head fervently, sending wisps of white hair flying this way and that. "Why are you adding so much comfrey root?"

Severus glanced over at Mr. Montford. "Because," he explained tiredly, "if you add a bit more it will promote healing far better than it currently does."

"But its taste is too bitter," Mr. Montford replied. "People won't take it."

Severus stopped collecting the juices from the mashed comfrey long enough to release an elongated sigh. "They will," he said with a painstakingly level voice, "if they are concerned about their health."

Mr. Montford picked up the small tube of juice that Severus had spent the last half hour extracting and held it up to the light, squinting at it. "No," he grunted, shaking the bottle around, "they won't."

Severus resisted the urge to snatch the tube away and continue with what he was doing before Mr. Montford rudely interrupted him. Instead, he bowed his head placidly and controlled the frustration in his voice. "Mr. Montford," he said quietly, "would it be better if I mixed it with chichory and dandelion?"

"No," the old man replied, setting down the tube of comfrey. "That tastes like coffee. Patrons won't believe it has medicinal purposes if it tastes good."

Severus shut his eyes and made a face. Mr. Montford was rarely content—stubbornly so. Severus had been working there for two weeks now and he'd only received a compliment once—if he could even consider it as a compliment. Two mornings ago Mr. Montford had announced that Severus held the record for taking the longest time in preparing a poultice. Severus knew that it was really a criticism, but the look on the old man's face suggested that he was slightly amused and more than satisfied with the results. Severus was a good worker, after all, and he knew his herbs.

"So what would you have me do?" Severus asked expectantly.

"Finish off that batch and start to clean up," Mr. Montford replied. "I'm going to run and fetch your wages." After one last searching look, he scuttled off in the direction of his office.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Severus finished dripping the juices into their tube and capped it off. He walked over to the sink and began to wash up, eager to rid himself of the stains on his hands and the lingering aromas of various herbs.

"Severus?" Mr. Montford called.

"Yes," he replied, placing a pestle in the drying rack and hastily drying off his hands on the front of his pants. "I'm coming." He found Mr. Montford waiting by the door, already jingling his keys, ready to pack up.

"Ah," the old man said, "here you are." He handed Severus an envelope that was stuffed with muggle notes. "Enjoy yourself, laddie," he said with a small smile, "but don't spend it all in a tavern."

Severus looked down his nose at the old man. "I have no intention of doing that," he replied.

"Then off you go, now," Mr. Montford responded, practically pushing Severus out the door. "Have a nice weekend."

"Er, yes," Severus said with a nod, "you do the same, sir." He gripped his envelope tightly as he turned a corner and walked down a deserted alley. As he approached the end, he stopped and flung out his arm.

Not a moment later, a violent purple coloured bus screeched to a halt at the end of an alleyway. It was the Knight Bus. Though it was hardly Severus's preferred method of transportation, it was the quickest way to return home from London. His mother had bought him a month's worth of passes before he started his job. Severus reckoned that he was growing a stronger stomach by the day; it was a tumultuous ride.

The doors of the bus flung open and a bored looking witch with a wart on the side of her nose stuck her head out.

"Hello Mr. Snape," she said. "How was work today?"

"Fair enough, Yvonne," he answered, climbing into the bus and taking a seat near the front. He'd learned very quickly that riding in the front was far less bumpy than riding in the back.

"Glad to hear it," she said flatly. Shutting the door, she sat in the small seat next to the driver. "Next stop is Halifax."

Severus quickly gritted his teeth and the bus lurched forward. Zigzagging this way and that, he was beginning to think that perhaps his stomach was not as strong as he'd previously thought when the bus jerked to a stop.

"Your stop," Yvonne declared. "Have a good'un, Mr. Snape."

"Thanks," Severus mumbled, "you too." He quickly disembarked, happy to have solid ground under his feet again.

The Knight Bus always dropped him off two blocks from his house, behind an abandoned shed. He and his mother agreed that it would be the safest place for him to get off without being noticed.

The envelope with his money in it was still tucked safely inside his shirt, and feeling content for the first time in weeks, he took his time walking home. Though he was reluctant to admit it, he didn't exactly mind working for Mr. Montford. He'd learned a few things he hadn't known and now had a little extra spending money to boot. He'd decided to put three-quarters of it in savings, but still, it was the first time he'd had pocket money in a while.

He approached the front stoop of his house; the plants were slowly coming back to life.

He'd just turned the doorknob when his father greeted him at the door.

"Severus," Tobias said abruptly, "you've got a bloody owl here. Do something with it, will you?" He jerked his head back and Severus spotted a ghost owl perched on top of one of the bookcases. "Get rid of it before it shits on something."

"Yes, sir." Severus rushed forward and extended his arm towards the ghost owl. Obligingly, it fluttered down from the bookcase and landed on his arm, sticking out a leg. Severus glanced at the roll of parchment bound to it, tied with an emerald green ribbon and sealed with a silver, glittering serpent.

He untied it from the owl quickly. "Off you go," he muttered, walking the owl to the back door. He threw it open and the owl immediately took off, flying out of sight. Severus watched it disappear before turning back to the note clutched in his hand. Receiving owls made him nervous. He didn't want anyone to know where he lived, especially, he thought, glancing at the parchment roll in his hands, this particular owner.

He unravelled the note and read the shimmering calligraphy printed on the heavy piece of parchment.

_Mr. and Mrs. Alphard Black request the pleasure of your company at an engagement party for their daughter Bellatrix and her fiancé, Rodolphus Lestrange on July 7th at seven o'clock._

So Narcissa and Regulus's speculations had been correct; Bellatrix and Rodolphus were indeed getting married.

His eyes drifted to a note in scrawled across the bottom of the invitation. In neat, loopy writing was a personal message. Severus lifted an eyebrow, reading.

_S.S._

_As we suspected, the guest of honour is indeed attending the party later in the evening. Please consider attending so that you will be able to meet him. My aunt's given you approval to spend the night, as both cousins speak highly of you. (That and the fact that I'd agreed to help send out these bloody letters.)_

_See you then,_

_R.A.B._

The less than cryptic message both amused and shocked Severus. He was mildly surprised that Regulus had extended a personal invitation. But the prospect of the Dark Lord, as they called him, attending…well, that would be well worth attending a frivolous party.

Severus tucked the roll of parchment alongside his wages envelope. So much for new reading material, he thought with a sigh. It looked as though he'd need to purchase a set of decent dress robes.

* * *

Note: Thanks to all who are still keeping up with this story, despite the delays in my updates. I've been very busy, however, I _will_ continue with this story. I can't just let all those ideas float around inside my head. I need the space for other things. 


	5. No Socialite

Previous disclaimers apply

**Another Plane of Existence  
Chapter Five:** **No Socialite**

"You look like a vicar."

Severus, who was adjusting the high collar of his robes, paused and glanced at his father reproachfully. "Excuse me?"

"I said that you look like a vicar," Tobias repeated.

Feeling insulted, Severus glanced down at his robes. Shopping wasn't something he spent a lot of time doing or thinking about, and it had actually taken him a long time to pick out dress robes that suited his taste. Of course his father would call him a vicar simply because he was wearing black, high-collared robes. This particular set had been lightly used, but the material was good and the design simple. No frills for Severus. He was merely satisfied that they fit properly.

Tobias leaned back into his seat and folded his arms across his chest, looking amused. "Where are the tarts?" he added lightly, though his comment held just enough weight so that it was evident he was provoking Severus.

"At the tavern where you left them, I imagine," responded Severus dryly. To his surprise, his father laughed. Tobias had been away drinking the better part of the afternoon and returned more cheerful than usual. Of course, Eileen was still at work for Mr. Montford, covering for Severus.

"At the tavern where I left them," Tobias echoed in amusement. "If only." He shook his head, his dark eyes coolly surveying Severus's wardrobe. "Your mother wasn't wearing rubbish like that when I met her."

Severus tugged at a loose thread from one of the buttons on his sleeve cuffs. "That's not surprising," he replied shortly.

"No one would even have approached her."

"Probably not."

"Little did I know that I'd have a son who traipsed about in dressing gowns one day," continued Tobias. His voice had a sharper edge to it then before, and it wasn't difficult to see that things were quickly beginning to slide downhill.

Severus didn't bother to respond and instead double-checked his robes to make sure everything was in place.

"These…people…you're going to visit, are they like your mother's family?"

"Yes."

Eileen's family, the Princes, were pureblooded wizards. They weren't extremely wealthy like the Blacks or Malfoys, but there had been a number of bright, notable witches and wizards in their lineage, and the Prince surname had been fairly well known. That is, until their youngest and only daughter Eileen became involved with a poor muggle boy. Correspondence between the remaining family quickly became icy and forced, and eventually it dissipated into nothing at all. Severus rarely heard anything about his grandparents anymore.

"Then I'd be careful if I were you," Tobias declared. He lifted an eyebrow and lowered his voice sinisterly. "Stay away from their daughters. Women are sly enough, but your mother's kind," Tobias's upper lip curled, "her kind are the worst."

Severus met his father's gaze, but he honestly could not think of a suitable response. He was only glad that his mother wasn't around to hear what his father was saying; her family and marriage was a sensitive topic. Still, Tobias's advice wasn't exactly stemming from nowhere; Eileen hadn't told Tobias that she was a witch when they'd met. In fact, she'd waited until Severus was born and had shown the first signs of possessing magic before confessing the truth to him.

"Bloody wicked witches," Tobias muttered under his breath.

Severus took that as his cue to leave. He hadn't bothered to pack an overnight bag, and the only thing he had with him was his wand. Though practicing magic over the summer holidays was forbidden, his wand offered protection and security. He didn't want to leave it behind, especially when attending a wizard party.

"I'm leaving," he announced abruptly. "I'll return tomorrow."

Tobias eyed Severus sharply for a moment before replying, "Remember what I said."

"No worries," Severus said as he paused by the door. "It's hard to forget something like that."

"Right, then." Tobias tilted his head to the side and shrugged a shoulder before reaching for the bottle on the table before him. "Scarper off already."

Severus whisked out the back door towards the old brick privy. Robes bellowing out behind him, he marched past the small building and ducked through an opening in the fence so that separated the yard from the narrow alley behind it. Normally Severus wouldn't dare have the Knight Bus pick him up there—it was too noisy and there was too great a chance at being spotted--however, he didn't really have another choice. Bringing muggle clothes along was risky and he had no desire to walk through Spinners End dressed like a vicar.

It was already past seven o'clock, and he had to make it to the Leaky Cauldron and floo to Abbey View so that he wasn't dreadfully late. Much to his dismay, his mother had refused to make a portkey and he was too young to apparate legally.

After quickly glancing around, he raised his arm to hail the gigantic bus. It was a matter of seconds before he felt a great whoosh of air next to him and heard the sound of screeching brakes. Yvonne's flushed face greeted him as the great purple doors swung open. "'Lo, Mr. Snape," she said, eyeing him tiredly.

"Yvonne," he murmured with a nod, stepping into the bus. He acknowledged the bus driver and took his usual seat near the front.

Yvonne sat down in the pilot's seat and stared at him queerly. All of a sudden, she rubbed her eyes and peered at Severus. "You look different," she said. "Nice."

Severus's mouth quirked in embarrassment. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said. "Where are you off to tonight?"

"The Leaky Cauldron, please."

"Right," she answered, still eyeing him peculiarly. "Hold on, then." As soon as she the words left her mouth, the bus jarred forward and Severus nearly slid off of the seat and onto the floor. The grumbling protests of the other passengers on the bus echoed his sentiments perfectly. He was suddenly very glad that he hadn't eaten anything before hailing the bus.

"Next stop is the Leaky Cauldron!" Yvonne announced sharply.

The bus roared away from its previous stop, which was Little Hangleton, and swerved and veered as it travelled to the Leaky Cauldron. Once again, all of the passengers were thrown forward as the bus pulled up to the curb. Severus swiftly reached out and grabbed one of the metal poles on the bus to keep from flying headfirst into the windshield. Stifling a few choice curse words, he smoothed out his robes self-consciously and said goodbye to Yvonne.

"Have a good'un, Mr. Snape," she said as he left.

"Let's hope so," he said, though his comment was more for himself than for her.

The Leaky Cauldron was relatively empty, save a few old wizards who lifted their bushy eyebrows at Severus as he approached the bar. He reached into his inside pockets and pulled out a couple sickles, passing them between his fingers apprehensively.

Tom, the old bartender, walked over and greeted Severus with a toothless grin. "Well, hello there. What can I do for you this evening?"

"I'd like to purchase some floo powder," Severus said. "Enough for two round trips please." He pushed the coins across the counter towards Tom.

"Of course, of course." Tom nodded enthusiastically and ducked beneath the bar. Severus could hear him rustling around, and a moment later his bald head emerged and he thrust a small sack of floo powder into Severus's hands. "There you are."

"Thank you," Severus replied. He picked up the small sack and turned it around in his hands, inspecting it.

"It's nothing," Tom replied, dismissing Severus with a hand. "The fireplace is over there," he added, nodding towards the opposite side of the room. Severus turned to the fireplace, which had crackling fire that made shadows dance on the walls.

"Just make sure you speak up," Tom added genially. "I'm not responsible if you land on someone's great aunt."

Severus barely managed a smile. He had no intentions of landing on anyone's great aunt. "I'll do my best." Untying his sack of powder, he approached the fireplace and poured a handful of dust into the palm of his hand. With one swift movement, he tossed it into the fire. The flames blazed green in front of him.

"Abbey View!" he said smoothly, carefully annunciating every consonant and vowel. He stepped into the fire, and for a moment found himself swirling through a vortex of absolutely nothing. The next thing he knew he was stumbling through a giant marble fireplace. Coughing up ash into his hand, he straightened out and stepped onto the carpet in front of the hearth.

"Snape!" someone shouted from his left. "You made it!"

Snape recognized the voice immediately; it was Regulus. The younger boy quickly approached the fireplace, smiling broadly. His dark hair was combed away from his face so that his delicate features were clearly visible. He was dressed in heavy, black dress robes lined in green and accented with serpent clasps. They were very posh.

"I did," Severus said. Disentangling his hair with his fingers, he hoped that he didn't look like a sooty wreck. That wasn't quite the impression he was intent on making.

"You're clean," Regulus said casually, and Severus was slightly irritated that the young boy had enough insight to realize what he had been thinking. Regulus pointed to a large mirror hanging on the wall. "You can check if don't believe me."

"Thanks," Severus murmured, allowing himself a fleeting glance at his reflection, "but I'm fine."

Regulus nodded. "The Blacks always make sure they are presentable. Impressions are important." He made a face and gestured to his dress robes.

"Very Slytherin," Snape mused.

"To the core," Regulus agreed. "My mother and father wouldn't have it any other way."

"And your brother?"

Regulus's eyes flickered up at Severus suspiciously. "Sirius?" he said in a tight voice. "You mean that you haven't heard?"

Severus frowned. "No. Heard what?"

The corners of Regulus's mouth pulled taut. "He's gone. He and my parents were having quite a row one night and he decided he'd had enough. Ran off."

It was surprising news. Severus knew that Sirius was a hardheaded idiot, but he never really expected him to abandon the Black family. It was difficult to understand, seeing as that being a Black gave way to all sorts of opportunities that Severus would never have. Sirius had everything handed to him on a silver platter and had the gall to turn his nose away, the bloody fool. Severus would give an arm and a leg to have half of the opportunities that Sirius did.

"Ah," Severus said finally. Sirius was a blood traitor and showed little promise of reform. The Black family was better off without him. Regulus certainly was, anyhow. "Perhaps that was best," he added. He wondered how the news was being handled throughout the other pureblooded families, who loved scandals.

Regulus narrowed his eyes. "If you say so. All I know is that things have been bloody hell lately. Mum is screaming about abominations and abandonment, Dad is stewing about like a gobstone ready to explode, and I haven't heard a word from Sirius since. Selfish bastard."

"Where did he go?"

"To Potter," Regulus said bitterly. "Who else?"

Severus made a face. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be." Regulus dropped his gaze to the floor and sighed. "Anyhow, this party's been a distraction of sorts, excluding the fact that my mum and my Uncle Alphard aren't speaking."

"Why is that?"

"It's a long story involving Sirius," Regulus answered shortly. He glanced up and gestured down the hall. "Look, why don't we go see what everyone else is up to, eh?" He was clearly trying to change the subject, and Severus didn't feel the need to press the issue. If Regulus wanted to talk, he'd talk.

Together they walked out of the entrance hall and down a hallway decorated with dozens of moving photographs and portraits. Music, voices, and laughter echoed throughout the corridors.

"There are quite a few people here already," Regulus pointed out uselessly.

Snape nodded.

"Bellatrix and Rodolphus are greeting guests in the parlour, which is where most of the adults are congregating." He turned a corner and gestured for Snape to follow him, walking down another corridor. "I'm supposed to keep an eye out for incoming guests," he continued, turning to Severus with a wary smile and shaking his head slowly. "The greeter."

He directed Severus to a door down the dimly lit hall. "Let's go in here. Rabastan was trying to nick some of the liquor from the bar last time I saw him."

"Now there's a surprise," Snape said, rolling his eyes skyward. Of course it wouldn't take Rabastan long to get himself pissed. It was a party, after all.

Much to their amusement, Rabastan heard their entrance only a moment too late and nearly dropped a bottle of firewhiskey in a feeble attempt to hide it. "Damn it," he murmured, breathing heavily, "you blokes scared the shit out of me."

Regulus chuckled and Severus couldn't help but snort. "Not happy to see me?" he greeted Rabastan.

"Not at the expense of some booze," Rabastan grumbled, but he was smiling. "How's your holiday been, Snape?"

"Uneventful," Snape replied, "but I'm not complaining."

"You bought some new robes, I see," Rabastan said with a smirk. He thumbed his own robes, which were chocolate brown and tailored to fit his tall frame.

"When the occasion arises," Snape replied, shrugging off the subtle gibe. He was actually happy to see his fellow Slytherins again. It was almost worrisome to realize that he'd actually missed their company.

"Occasions," Rabastan said with a chuckle, "that undoubtedly call for something to drink." He unscrewed the cap of the firewhiskey bottle and tilted it up to his lips. After several large gulps, he pulled it away and made a face. "It always burns at first," he said unnecessarily, and passed it to Regulus. "Have a go at it, Regulus."

Regulus grinned wickedly and raised the bottle. "To occasions," he said, and nodded at both Severus and Rabastan, "like welcoming new members into the family."

The smile on Rabastan's face faded and he grunted and mumbled something under his breath.

"Get used to it," Snape advised him.

Regulus wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and held the bottle out to Severus. "Your turn," he said.

Severus quickly grabbed it from him. He had a fleeting image of his father sitting at the kitchen table, but dismissed it almost immediately. He was not his father. He was not a muggle drunkard.

He raised the bottle into the air and lowered his voice. A sudden inspiration hit him, and he decided to make another toast.

"To the Dark Lord," he murmured. After all, that was the real reason that everyone was so interested in attending the engagement party

Regulus eyes widened and Rabastan hissed in a breath of air at Snape's dedication. Snape held out the bottle to Rabastan.

"To the Dark Lord," Rabastan murmured. .

Someone cleared their throat from the hallway, and Regulus, who'd been mid-gulp, yelped and sloshed whiskey down the front of his robes. "Bugger," he grumbled, wiping away the droplets self-consciously.

"Rosier," Rabastan said lazily, eyeing the unexpected guest. "Late as always. Is Florence around somewhere?"

"Very funny," Evan replied testily, entering the room. He plopped down onto an armchair and surveyed the others. "Well, you tossers," he said after a moment, "are you going to pass me the bottle or not?"

"Only if you drink to Bellatrix and the Dark Lord," Regulus replied, eyes shining.

"Together?"

Snape snickered quietly. "You are a buffoon, Rosier," he said. "That could be considered blasphemous, you realize."

"Why?" Rosier protested. "The Dark Lord has eyes, and Bellatrix has…many other things." He gave the boys a lopsided grin and lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

"She's marrying my brother, you arse," Rabastan growled.

"Then perhaps you could get me a picture—" Rosier started, but he never got to finish, because Rabastan stepped forward and put him in a headlock.

"OY!"

"Stop being so bloody stupid—"

"—Was joking, ouch! You're messing up my hair!"

"Right, pretty boy—OW!"

"Ha!" Rosier stood up triumphantly and gave Rabastan a white-toothed grin.

Rabastan grimaced and rubbed his side. "You used a stinging hex!" he said accusingly.

Rosier shrugged and pulled his wand out of his royal blue dress robes. "There is so much magic going on here tonight that the Ministry won't know the difference one way or the other."

"True enough," Regulus agreed. "We've gotten away with it before. Mind you, my parents aren't exactly strict in their monitoring, as long as we're not breaking anything…"

Severus sighed internally. There was no way that he would be able to get away with magic at Spinner's End. His mother hardly used it anymore, and the Ministry would certainly be able to trace it back to him. Even so, he was glad that his wand was tucked safely away inside his sleeve pocket.

"Aw, I won't break anything," Rosier said with a wink. He flicked his wand to a cabinet in the corner and summoned four glasses, which hurtled towards the boys at an alarming speed.

Snape backed out of the way as one nearly crashed into his head, and Regulus managed to catch one as it flew past him. His eyes shifted nervously and he shot Rosier a murderous look. "Those are my aunt's good glasses!"

Rosier caught the glass that had nearly collided with Snape in his left hand and managed to catch another with his right. Unfortunately, one more glass went right over his shoulder and smashed into the wall, shattering and littering the floor with shiny delicate pieces of crystal.

"Er," he said, staring at the pieces, "don't worry." He set the two glasses on the table and flicked his wand towards the shattered pieces. "Reparo!"

In an instant, the pieces reformed themselves into the glass. Rosier bent down to inspect it and nodded. "If there is one spell I'm decent at," he said slowly, "it's 'reparo'."

Severus shook his head. "You're going to need it for your head someday, Rosier. You're senseless."

Rabastan snorted as he poured firewhiskey into the two glasses on the table and prodded Regulus to hand over his glass as well. "Come on, Black. It's a party. Loosen up, will you?"

Regulus smiled weakly. "Sure," he said, "all right."

Rosier clapped him on the back. "Brilliant," he said cheerfully, waiting for his glass to be filled. "Are we sure no one will find us back here?"

"My family is too busy to bother," Regulus replied. "Bellatrix and her parents are busy receiving guests, and I expect my mother and father are entertaining as well." He picked up his glass, which was now half full of firewhiskey. "Narcissa and Andromeda are probably around there too, mooning over wedding dresses and Lucius Malfoy, if he's arrived."

"I do not moon, Regulus Black," a delicate voice floated into the room.

All of the Slytherin boys turned to the doorway, where a cross looking Narcissa was standing, flanked by Merrick Avery and Fulton Wilkes, two Slytherin boys who were going into their seventh year at Hogwarts.

The corners of Regulus's mouth twitched mischievously. "Hello, Narcissa," he said smoothly. "Avery," he greeted the boys, "Wilkes."

Wilkes looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh, while Avery gazed at the boys suspiciously.

"Do not hello Narcissa me," Narcissa said sharply. "Pretending as though I didn't hear what you said." She folded her arms across her chest and glared at her cousin.

Regulus grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

"You should be," she scolded him. "It's your job to greet the guests, and poor Fulton and Merrick were stuck chatting with mad old Auntie Dora for the past twenty minutes."

Severus wasn't sure who Auntie Dora was, but by the look on Regulus's face he gathered that she was someone one wouldn't want to spend a lot of time with.

"My apologies," Regulus said earnestly, wrinkling his nose. "I'm terribly sorry."

"It wasn't that bad," spoke up Wilkes, glancing at Narcissa. "Really, I was all right until she started imitating the sounds a houself makes when decapitated."

Regulus groaned. "She must be drinking," he said. His cheeks were flushed, either from embarrassment or the consumption of firewhiskey, though Severus was inclined to think it was the former.

"Something stiff, by the smell of her," Avery spoke up gruffly.

The entire room was quiet as everyone soaked up what he said, and then they all began to laugh. Allowing himself a rare smile, Severus made the mental note to stay away from Auntie Dora.

"You look lovely, Narcissa," an unabashed Rosier piped up from the back of the room.

Rabastan nodded in agreement and even Severus had to admit that she looked very pretty. Her long blond hair was tied into a knot at the nape of her long neck, and she was dressed in pale blue robes that shimmered in the light.

Narcissa softened only slightly. "Thank you, Evan." Her light blue eyes skimmed over every boy in the room, silently evaluating each of them. "You boys look very nice yourselves," she said finally, walking into the room. Moving in between Regulus and Severus, she picked up one of the glasses and arched an eyebrow.

"Drinking?" she asked gently.

"I—" Regulus stuttered, looking around helplessly, "that is, we—"

"Don't bother." Narcissa shook her head and took a sip of firewhiskey. Severus blinked at her in surprise. The other Slytherins were reacting similarly; Regulus's mouth was hanging open and Rabastan was gazing at her with a look of complete and total adoration on his face. Rosier and Wilkes began to laugh and Avery was already helping himself to a glass of firewhiskey.

"Ugh," said Narcissa, making a face, "it's vile." She set the glass back down on the table. "If I were you I would have chosen a bottle of wine, or at least a bottle of brandy."

"Brandy is for pansies," Rabastan told her. He then proceeded to down the rest of his glass of firewhiskey in a show of manly pomposity.

"And?" Narcissa asked.

Rabastan furrowed his brows. "And what?"

A small smile twitched at the corners of Narcissa's lips. "And nothing, Rabastan," she said. "Never mind."

The look of bewilderment on the young Lestrange brother's face passed as fast as it had appeared, and he turned his attention back to the firewhiskey bottle, which was three-quarters of the way gone.

Severus glanced sideways at Narcissa. "It's no use using subtle allusions on Lestrange when he's drinking," he said pointedly. "You may as well call him a pansy directly to his face and get on with it."

She smiled at him. "But where's the fun in that?"

Severus looked past her at Rabastan, who was now challenging Wilkes and Avery to a drinking contest. "It all depends on whether or not you find dodging hexes fun," he replied.

Narcissa's blue eyes twinkled. "Not in my evening clothes," she responded. She turned her pale face up to Snape and gave him a small smile. "You're clever, you know."

Snape stared at her in bemusement. Was he supposed to answer that somehow? He wasn't sure, and he could feel the inner clockwork inside of his mind grinding to halt; the seconds it was taking him to respond were turning into minutes and then hours. Severus didn't feel clever at all.

Thankfully, the silence was broken by Regulus, who shoved a drink into Severus's hand.

"Quick, finish this up. We're all going to have to go face the rest of the party in a moment," Regulus muttered. "They'll be wondering where we've all gone."

Narcissa nodded. "I was just about to leave." She bowed her head gracefully, lowering her eyes. "I'll see you around, boys."

A chorus of goodbyes followed her as she exited the room. Severus watched her blonde head disappear as she turned a corner in the hall. He wasn't the only one.

"Well," said Wilkes, "let's finish off the evidence, eh?" He took one last swig from the bottle and passed it to his right.

Each boy took a swig, and Avery placed himself at the end, consuming the last of the contents. "Right," he said smacking his lips, "let's get out there." He turned to the younger boys and glared at them harshly. "And if any of you act like wankers tonight, I will personally see to it that you are introduced to Auntie Dora."

* * *

As the party progressed, Severus could sense the tension and excitement building. Bellatrix and Rodolphus looked especially pleased, and exchanged several significant looks with other members of Slytherin house. Even the adults and parents in the room seemed anxious to meet the special guest.

Severus placed himself in a far corner of the room for most of the party. He rather liked it; it allowed him to survey the room and its occupants unobtrusively. He had, of course, congratulated Bellatrix and Rodolphus on their engagement, but shortly after he decided that he'd keep a low profile and lurk in the shadows, away from most of the group.

Thus far he'd spent most of the night talking with his housemates, so he was fairly surprised to see a young man with a pointed face and silvery blonde hair approach him.

"Severus Snape?"

Severus nodded. There was no mistaking who the man was. Severus had watched him chat up various people throughout the night. "You must be Lucius Malfoy."

"I am." Lucius nodded, his grey eyes surveying Snape shrewdly. "I've heard a lot about you from Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers. I'm pleased to finally meet you."

Severus regarded Lucius carefully, taking in his words. Something inside of him inflated proudly upon hearing Lucius's words of recognition. Perhaps he was finally making a name for himself.

"Your name isn't unfamiliar in Slytherin house, either," he answered.

"I should hope not," Lucius replied, arching an eyebrow. "It would be disconcerting to hear that all of my delegating has had no effect whatsoever."

"Delegating?"

Lucius laughed lightly. "Yes, Severus, delegating. Am I right in assuming that you're not here to celebrate an engagement? Forgive me for being blunt, but you don't strike me as a socialite."

Severus narrowed his eyes, keen on where Lucius was heading with the conversation. He had not openly voiced his opinions about the Dark Lord besides making the toast earlier, and guarded his position very carefully. If he was going to take a risk, he deemed it necessary to make sure that his well-being was taken care of. Having no experience with Lucius, the noble pureblooded families, or the Dark Lord himself, Severus was treading very lightly.

"No, I'm no socialite, as you say."

Lucius smiled. "I thought not. Bellatrix has mentioned that you're something of a loner, though she assures me that you're quite a talent when it comes to the Dark Arts, which is saying something."

Severus nodded slowly. "They interest me, yes."

"A reputable hobby in some circles, I think," Lucius agreed smoothly. "Where are you from, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Yorkshire."

"Really?" The pitch of Lucius's voice rose as his curiosity piqued. "Hm. You don't really sound like a Tyke."

Severus shifted his weight uneasily, wondering how much longer Lucius was going to play twenty questions. He noticed the other guests slowly filtering out of the room, though he wasn't sure if this was because they were going home or if they were moving to another area of the house. He spotted Regulus chatting with Rosier and Wilkes and Rabastan speaking with his brother. Had they been accosted by Lucius too?

Turning back to Malfoy, he realized he must have missed something Lucius had said, as the Slytherin alum was smiling at him queerly.

"Severus?"

Severus managed to smile apologetically. "Yes?"

"Your surname, Snape, is English, isn't it?"

Clenching his teeth, Severus nodded. "Correct." The direction of the conversation was not promising.

"Interesting."

"Is it?"

"It's not a name you hear very often."

"Someday I hope to rectify that," Severus answered levelly.

"Such ambition," Lucius mused. "I respect that, having similar desires myself." He smiled and gestured around the room. "Of course, most Slytherins do."

Severus sighed a breath of relief internally, thankful that he'd managed to steer the topic of conversation away from his bloodlines.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." Narcissa appeared at Severus's side, smiling prettily at Lucius. "I apologize for interrupting your conversation, but Bellatrix and Rodolphus sent me to tell you that our special guest of honour has arrived and is meeting people in the Dining room."

Lucius, who'd looked annoyed at being interrupted, softened and bowed his head. "Thank you, Narcissa." A look of approval glittered in his eyes as he observed the younger girl. "I'll leave for the dining room straightaway." He turned to Snape. "I hope to continue this conversation in the future, Severus. I'll speak with you later, I'm sure." After bowing his head once more, he turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving Narcissa and Severus by themselves.

She glanced over at him and shook her head. A loose lock of hair fell across her forehead. "You never cease to amaze me, Snape."

He wrinkled his brow. "What do you mean by that?"

"Your reputation," she answered simply. "Lucius Malfoy sought you out, and that's not a common occurrence."

"I'm sure he was just making rounds," Severus said flatly. "He probably talked with most of the guests tonight."

Narcissa shook her head again. "No," she said, "he didn't." She pursed her lips for a moment, looking disappointed.

Severus assumed by her pout that she was one of the people whom Lucius ignored. Malfoy was quite a bit older than her so it didn't strike Severus as odd that the two didn't speak. Surely she wasn't considering him as a romantic interest? It was an odd notion and it perplexed him. Since she obviously didn't know Lucius as much more than an acquaintance, it didn't make sense for her to be enamoured with him. It was probably a silly schoolgirl crush.

"Let's go," she said finally, brushing back her hair and gesturing towards the doorway. "We don't want to be late."

* * *

The wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort was like noone Severus had ever seen before. He was a tall, thin man, with a bone-pale complexion and emaciated features. Though he was dressed in fine robes and moved about gracefully, it was quite clear that a few members of the engagement party found him repulsive. Narcissa could barely lift her eyes past the level of the Dark Lord's spidery hands.

Severus was in awe of him. Not only was he struck by the fact that the Dark Lord barely resembled a human form anymore, but he was compelled by the man's finesse. In a matter of minutes, the entire room was hanging on Lord Voldemort's every word, impressed by his knowledge and resourcefulness.

In the back of the room, Severus listened attentively as the Dark Lord continued his speech.

"You see, my friends, I understand your remonstrations of our current predicament. I too find it disconcerting that the Ministry is doing nothing to stop Muggle encroachment. Do they not understand that by facilitating Muggle needs they are repressing the needs of their own kind? Don't you think it's unfair that they are wasting funds and time on Muggles, who have no appreciation or concern for our own well-being? Most muggles are completely ignorant of our existence! They are completely unaware of our nobility and talent, of the magic that flows through the veins of each and every one of you standing here tonight." He paused for effectiveness, his bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes skimming over his captivated audience.

"I believe we have been too tolerant. As muggle favouritism continues, pureblood families like yours will be corrupted and possibly forced into extinction. I hope that I am not being audacious when I say that I doubt any of you like this subjugation."

"You're not, my lord," a voice whispered in the front of the room.

The Dark Lord nodded, his lips forming a twisted smile. "I thought not. This is why I have made it my personal goal to fight for the wizarding race. There is no reason that we should sit idly while the ministry continues to overlook our needs. I am not too modest to assure you that I am a very powerful wizard. I can make it so that your bloodlines are not being contaminated by common blood. I can give you back your living space so that you will not have to hide your craft from petty fools."

All around Severus, people were nodding and murmuring enthusiastically.

"If you are interested," the Dark Lord continued, "do not hesitate to approach me. Together we can restore our world to the way it should be. We will fight against those who oppose us, we will break down the barriers that confine us, and we will win. Lord Voldemort is not a wizard who gives up easily. I do not plan on giving up at all. We will have power once again."

The room erupted into applause, and Severus clapped soundly along with them. Though he never considered himself impressionable, the Dark Lord's charisma was hard to ignore. Everyone in the room could relate to what he'd said.

Thoughts of his father filled Severus's mind, and old resentments began to resurface. It wasn't fair that his mother could no longer practice magic. It wasn't fair that Severus had to stalk out the Knight bus clandestinely, and it wasn't fair that he could not use magic over the holidays. All of this was because some muggle dunderhead might see it.

"Well?" Regulus stood at Severus's elbow. "What do you think?"

"He speaks well," Severus answered, his previous scepticism slowly fading. There was some logic in what the Dark Lord was saying; muggles _were_ quelling the growth of the wizarding race. "He speaks very well."

* * *

A/N: A big thank you to everyone who is still keeping up with this fiction. For the Lily/Severus shippers out there, no worries, the two will meet again in the next chapter. 


	6. Dawning Recognition

--Previous disclaimers apply

**Dawning Recognition**

_And I have the sense to recognize that  
I don't know how to let you go_  
Sarah McLachlan, Surfacing, Arista Records 1997

Several weeks had passed since Snape's informative experience at the Black household. Much to his father's chagrin, Spinner's End had since been subjected to an influx of messenger owls. In all fairness, Severus wasn't very fond of the self-important hoots and beaks tapping against the windowpanes, either. He also found the fact that most owls expected a little food in return mildly irritating. At least the muggle postman did not demand treats after a mail delivery.

Most of the letters he'd received were from Regulus, who would write something nearly every week. Severus remained uncertain as to whether or not Regulus was corresponding out of duty, out of necessity, or if it was merely genial chitchat that gave him something to do. Regardless of the circumstances, Snape usually spared a moment to scrawl out a brief reply. His lack of detail and effort didn't seem to faze Regulus at all, and the young Slytherin boy soon learned to drop any unnecessary questions that would surely go unanswered, sticking to mindless chatter and observations on the latest wizarding news.

The most important owl delivery had come four days ago, leaving Severus with an increasing satisfaction that the summer was finally coming to an end. A tawny Hogwarts owl had brought him a square envelope in which held his O.W.L. results. It was only a matter of seconds before he'd sliced the envelope open and viewed the results of his hard work: eight O.W.L.s. By some stroke of luck he'd even managed to scrape by on his History of Magic exam. Eight O.W.L.s was good—very good, indeed.

Severus spent the rest of the week walking around like a different boy; he was not quite so sullen or slinky, and instead held his shoulders straight and his chin levelled.

"That pleased to be leaving, are you?" Mr. Montford queried, looking up from the tincture Snape was currently preparing.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I've noticed a spring in your step these past few days."

Severus frowned. As far as he was concerned, he did not spring, nor would he ever. The fleeting horror that his actions were comparable to Potter deflated his pride considerably, and he paused in his grinding to study Mr. Montford.

The old man seemed not to notice. "This is the time of year most students begin to drag their feet." His wrinkled hands pinched some of the herbs in Severus' mortar and he began to rub them between his fingertips. "You, on the other hand, appear to be acting quite oppositely."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "I suppose you could say that," he answered, not that he thought it was Mr. Montford's business. "I'm looking forward to returning to school."

Montford looked as though he accepted Severus's reply, and then cleared his throat. Severus braced himself for another prying question or a condescending review of his work, but fortunately was the recipient of neither. Mr. Montford fixed him with a steady gaze. "Since it is your last day, and I've—ah—come to the realization that I can be a bit hard on my employees, I wanted to give you something." He smiled in what Snape could only assume was an apologetic manner (though it was hard to tell) and pulled an envelope out from his pocket. "Your wages," he explained. "It also occurred to me that I could supply you with something else that you may find useful…" He went over to the counter and pulled open a drawer, retrieving a parcel. He held it up for Severus to view. "Herbs," he said matter-of-factly. "I've enclosed a number of herbs, including a few rare ones, for your own collection." He waved it importantly, hobbling back towards Severus. "I expect you to use them."

Severus blinked in surprise, accepting the envelope and parcel hesitantly. There was no doubt in his mind that the parcel's contents would prove to be useful. He was, however, slightly taken aback that the gruff old man had given him any thought at all. "Thank you very much, sir," he said. "You needn't worry about them going to waste." He gently placed the parcel on the table and turned back to his tincture. "I appreciate it."

"You deserve it," replied Mr. Montford. "With the exception of your mother, you are one of the most adequate herbalists that I've worked with." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Though between you and me, your mother is growing too old for improvement, whereas you..." He paused, raising his bushy eyebrows suggestively. "You are invited to come back and work for me any time you wish, Mr. Snape."

Mr. Montford's words settled in slowly. Severus couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief. It was the first time the old man had been generous in his praise this entire summer, and really, even Slughorn couldn't have done a better job of it. Considering the offer, Severus gave a slight nod. "Perhaps," he said thoughtfully, "perhaps over the winter holidays, or next summer."

"Fine, fine." Mr. Montford eyes glimmered with satisfaction, but he cleared his throat in a professional manner. "You mentioned something about having to shop for school supplies earlier. You'd best be off before it gets dark and the shops close for the evening."

He began to clean up the area in which Severus was working, and Severus paused uncomfortably. "Mr. Montford, sir, I can straighten up," he offered. After all, part of an herbalist or potion brewer's duty was to clean up and decontaminate the workspace. Severus had always been particularly meticulous in that aspect.

"No, no. There's no reason for you to be polite to this barmy old codger." Montford gestured emphatically to the door. "Off with you, now."

Severus thinned his lips, scanning the small shop one last time. For all of the grief he'd given his mother, his job here hadn't been all that bad. He'd managed to make some extra money and learn a few things, besides. "Thank you, sir," he said, dipping his head respectfully. "I hope the rest of your summer goes well." Clutching the parcel close to his chest, he exited through the door, the jingle of the bells ringing their last goodbye as he departed.

He passed few people as he made his way through London's streets towards the Leaky Cauldron. It was approaching suppertime, and most of the crowds had thinned out. It was the perfect time to pick up school supplies, he decided, appreciating the fact that he wouldn't have to queue up in order to purchase a set of school robes and some new parchment and quills. He patted the list in his pocket to ensure it was still there, though if it hadn't been there it would hardly have mattered; he had the list memorized. Besides, much of the list had already been crossed off; his mother's old things would suffice.

He turned a corner and began to walk down Charing Cross Road. The shabby little inn known as the Leaky came into view and he began to feel excited about visiting Diagon Alley. A group of young Muggles was standing in front of the Leaky's entrance, so Severus slowed his gait and paused, feigning interest in the record store next door. The group showed little promise of moving from its current location any time soon.

"Oh, come on," he grumbled under his breath, growing impatient as the seconds ticked by. He sighed irritably and resisted the urge to tell them off, instead turning his attention to the record store before him. Large, brightly coloured posters were hanging everywhere, and dozens of shelves holding hundreds of records lined the walls. People mulled around, bobbing their heads to the music as they scanned the selection of records. Severus didn't really understand the allure. Records were a frivolous expenditure in the Snape household, especially when they could listen to radio programming for free. Besides, the wizarding wireless network was perfectly adequate. He started to turn away from the shop window when a familiar dimpled smile caught his eye and startled him.

"Evans," he breathed, inhaling sharply. She was standing at the counter, purchasing a record and chatting amicably with the young sales clerk. Severus watched the clerk sceptically; it looked as though he was flirting with her. He couldn't be for certain as to whether or not Evans appreciated it, then brushed the thought away. It wasn't as if it mattered.

She'd turned so that now Snape could only see her hair, which was tied back away from her face. The moment he saw her he'd been instantly reminded of their last encounter, recalling the worries that had been bothering him ever since. Part of him wanted to keep walking towards the Leaky and forget the fact that he'd seen her, but by the time he even considered it she'd turned around and was walking to the door.

"Damnit!" He scowled and looked around, but there was no place for him to hide, lest he join the group of Muggles, which wasn't an appealing thought.

The door of the record store opened and Evans stepped out, carrying a number of purchases in sacks. She was shifting them about, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was standing within a yard of her. Unable to shake the thought of Hogwarts' entire student population finding out that he was a half-blood, Severus decided to seize this opportunity to have a chat with Evans.

He felt his adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, and raised his voice to get her attention. "Evans."

Startled, she looked up from her purchases and turned towards him. "Snape?" she replied bemusedly. Her almond-shaped eyes immediately narrowed into suspicious slits. "What are you doing here?"

He ignored her inquisitive stare and sniffed scathingly. She was acting as if he'd stalked her out on his own accord, he decided, feeling insulted. He gestured to the Muggle group. "Waiting for them to clear off so that I can enter the Leaky."

"Oh." Her gaze flickered to the crowded sidewalk, and she relaxed a little. "I just finished my shopping. My dad is fetching the car."

He'd assumed as much, identifying a familiar wizarding logo on one of the sacks she was carrying. Wondering how he could bring up the incident at the train station, he shoved his hands into his pockets pensively. Evans didn't say anything, merely looking uncomfortable and impatient.

It was now or never, he decided, and after another silent moment, plucked up enough nerve to say something. "Listen, Evans," he began, "about our run-in at King's Cross—"

She put up her free hand and interrupted him. "If you're worried about me telling anyone that you're not really a pureblood, you needn't be. I have no plans of interfering in your little façade."

He gave her a sharp look. It bothered him that she'd known what he was going to request, and also that she'd treated his behaviour in such a demeaning manner. Still, the tight ball of worry that was lodged in his chest for the entire summer began to ebb away.

"Fine," he replied, clipping the word short with his tongue.

She shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. "It's not like I don't understand why you've done it."

He lifted an eyebrow warily. She was perceptive, something he usually considered an admirable trait, but her words made him suspicious. Could he trust her to keep a secret? He searched her face, looking for some sort of sign that would prove otherwise, but found none. He heaved a weighty sigh; a mild guilt started to trouble him, and he conceded to it, although reluctantly. "It makes me no less of a hypocrite," he admitted.

To his surprise, the corners of Evans's mouth curled up and she gave a snort of amusement. "That's the closest I'll ever come to receiving an apology, isn't it?" she asked.

He frowned at her. He hadn't meant to apologize, and especially had not meant to be funny. She must have noticed his disapproval, because she stifled her laughter abruptly and hastily tore her gaze away from his.

"Come on," she said, nodding towards the Leaky. "They're moving."

He turned to look at the Muggles, and sure enough, they were moving along, albeit slowly. "Thank the gods," he muttered.

Evans started to walk towards the Leaky. "Have you had a good summer?" she asked.

"All right," he answered stiffly. "You?"

"I'm glad to be going back to Hogwarts," she replied. Then as an afterthought, "My sister is so unbearable at times."

He blinked at this revelation. He'd had no idea that Evans had a sister. Upon further reflection, however, he realized he didn't know much about her at all, with the exception of the fact that she was a Muggle-born and her father's name was Richard. He couldn't recall another Evans in the Hogwarts population. "Is she a witch?" he inquired.

"A witch?" Evans repeated, slowly. A crease formed between her brows as she thought about this. "Well, that depends on your definition of the word, really." She gave him a sidelong look. "She's hopelessly Muggle, you see, and can be a bit…ill-tempered." She sighed after this, looking a bit like she'd wished she hadn't said anything at all. The look faded from her face as quickly as it appeared, though, and her face forcibly brightened. "Did you get your O.W.L. results?" she asked.

He nodded. "Four days ago."

"Me too."

"Did you do well on your Potions exam?" he asked suddenly, remembering their exchange over his notes. He glanced at the group of Muggles. They hadn't turned the corner yet, so he and Evans paused in front of the Leaky Cauldron, waiting.

Evans nodded. "An 'O'," she said, a note of pride in her voice. "Professor Slughorn will be pleased." She brushed a strand of hair behind her left ear. "You?"

He nodded. "The same. I'll see you in N.E.W.T. level potions, I suppose."

"Yes, I suppose you will."

He nearly asked her if, since she'd done so well on her Potions exam, it was still necessary for her to borrow his notes. He didn't, however, and looked past her to see if the coast was clear so that he could make his way to Diagon Alley. The group of teenagers had disappeared around the corner of another building, and he thought it would be silly if he continued to chat with her, being as that they hardly knew each other. "I should probably get going," he said.

"Oh, right," she murmured, giving him a small smile. "I'll see you on the train, then?"

"Probably," he assented. "Let's just hope it's not because I've hexed Potter," he added dryly, referring to her previous interferences.

Evans looked surprised, but then laughed. It was a warm laugh, causing Severus to flush a bit. "I'm willing to overlook that," she said, shaking her head.

He shrugged to convey that his comment wasn't completely in jest and edged towards the door, pausing. "Enjoy the rest of your summer."

"You too."

With one final nod, he pushed open the door to the Leaky Cauldron, leaving Evans silhouetted in the warm glow of the summer sunset, her hair reflecting a red and gold halo of sunlight.

* * *

"You've got quite a bit there," Eileen said, lifting an eyebrow at Severus's purchases, which he placed on the kitchen table with a small thump. 

"Not really," he replied, dark eyes surveying the sacks with a similar look. "No books."

"No need," Eileen said matter-of-factly. "I gathered the few that weren't in your room and put them with the rest, by your trunk."

Severus grunted appreciatively. The nice thing about his mother was that she wasn't a particularly nosey person. There was a mutual respect between mother and son that neither crossed unless they absolutely had to, which wasn't often.

"Is he not here then?"

"No. He's working a double shift at the mill."

"Ah." Severus couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh and sank down into a chair across from his mother. Her lips were pinched together, and a deep crease formed between her brows.

She eyed him for a moment, looking thoughtful, and then cleared her throat. "Do you fancy a game of gobstones?" she asked.

When Severus was a young boy she had taught him how to play, gently introducing him to the logistics and strategies needed to win. As he aged, the games became more competitive, not that either minded. It was rare that Severus won a game, though. Eileen was a skilled competitor and was not the type of person to let her son win. The fact that she challenged him to a game now, of all times, caught him off guard. They hadn't played a game in the two years, at least.

"Gobstones?" He glanced around the house. "Now?"

"Do you have something else to do?"

He nearly said that yes, he did have something else to do, but the expression on his mother's face made him hesitate. "No," he said, finally. "Shall I get the board?"

Eileen gestured to a worn box on the countertop. "I already have," she said lightly. "You set up, Severus."

He grabbed the box obligingly and began to set up the pieces in silence, frowning to himself. His mother wanted to talk to him about something, he was certain of that, but he had no idea what it would be about. Long fingers carefully adjusting the last gobstone, he glanced up at her expectantly. "Your move."

She moved, and they took turns going back and forth for several minutes before she spoke again. "Severus," she began, voice perfectly level and straightforward, "what do you plan on doing after school?"

He had been about to move a precarious looking gobstone, but froze at her question, turning his attention to her and fixing her with an inquisitive stare. "Why do you ask?" He hadn't meant to sound as defensive as the tone of his voice suggested, but it was a strange coincidence that his mother asked him about his career plans on the same day that Mr. Montford offered him a job at the herbalist shop.

Eileen seemed unperturbed by his retort. "Because I am your mother and take an interest in these things, as it happens."

Severus turned his attention back to the pulsating gobstone, and held his breath. Luckily, an open board space allowed him to make a move without touching it. "I'm not going to take over for Mr. Montford some day, if that's what you were thinking."

"And what exactly makes you believe that I thought that?" Eileen replied, swiftly making a move that prevented Severus from grabbing any of the gobstones besides the ominous looking one. He blanched, knowing he'd lost.

"Timing," he answered shortly, and gingerly pushed the gobstone away from them both. A putrid-smelling liquid shot out of it and splattered across the table. Eileen's eyes glittered triumphantly and Snape's nostrils flared as the liquid's scent wafted in his direction.

"That's partially true," she conceded, standing up to retrieve a washcloth and mop up the gobstone juice. "Of course, that's mostly because you're entering your sixth year of school." She dabbed at the drops scattered across the tabletop. "I didn't think you planned on being an herbalist, Severus."

He sat stiffly in the chair. "Oh."

Eileen placed the washcloth in the kitchen sink. "Another game?" she asked. "This one didn't last very long."

"I'd rather not," he answered.

She fixed him with a stern look. "You know, I didn't think that one simple question would put you in one of your moods," she told him.

"I'm not in a mood," he protested, even though every minute that passed by was clearly making him increasingly broody. "If you insist upon knowing—"

"—Severus," she interrupted with a snap, "I am your mother. I insist because I have an interest in your plans and I worry about you."

He immediately bit his tongue and bowed his head, letting his dark fringe fall in front of his eyes. She was right, of course. He had no idea why he was being so unnecessarily foul about such a simple question. He inhaled deeply and tried to quell is nerves. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "It's just that I'm not sure yet. Last year I told Professor Slughorn that I found curse-breaking interesting."

Eileen's lips twitched at this. "You would," she said softly. "That would take you where?" she asked. "Egypt? South America?"

"Probably."

"I always wanted to travel," she said suddenly, almost wistfully.

"I wouldn't mind it," he agreed contemplatively. "But really, I'm more interested in the process of figuring out curses and their counterparts." His thoughts drifted to his mother's old potions book—his private journal for similar research, trials and errors.

"And your N.E.W.T. levels this year are centred around the courses you'll need for curse-breaking?"

"Of course," he answered. "Defence Against the Dark Arts is my favourite class, and I'm taking Arithmancy and Charms."

"And Potions?"

He paused. He was taking potions, though it wasn't exactly a necessity for curse breaking. He was simply talented at it and knew it would be a relatively easy mark. "Yes," he answered with a nod, "Potions too."

She nodded approvingly. "Good. You've got a knack for potion brewing."

"So some say."

Eileen was quiet then, and they both sat in the kitchen, staring into space. Several more minutes passed by before she focused her dark gaze upon him. "I think it would be good if you travelled."

"Hm?" he murmured, taken by surprise. It was unlike her to say such things. "Why is that?"

"Severus," she began bluntly, "I may have cut off most of my ties with the magical world, save you, but that does not mean I am ignorant to what's going on."

Shifting in his seat, he blinked at her. "And what is that?"

"I was also a Slytherin, you realize," she said enigmatically. "I went to school with many pureblood witches and wizards whose kin are_your_ housemates now."

He had a faint idea where this was going, but said nothing, waiting for her to continue. He was not about to incriminate himself, especially considering the fact that he hadn't done anything unacceptable. Yet.

"It doesn't take a Seer to know what's building up," she said. "You can practically see the tension building. It's been going on for some time now, only more and more witches and wizards are becoming involved. I suspect the same families are taking part."

He opened his mouth to tell her that he had no idea what she was talking about, but found he couldn't voice the lie. He began to fiddle with the cuff of his sleeve instead.

"You're very talented," she continued. "I don't want you to throw that away."

What made her think he'd be throwing his talent away? he thought tiredly. And why did she suspect he'd be interested in such things? How did she know?

"Don't throw your talents away," she repeated, this time with urgency.

"I can take care of myself, mother," he replied, somewhat petulantly.

She sighed. "I know that. I'm only concerned that you'll take on more than you can handle."

Feeling quite agitated by this point, Severus pushed back his chair so that it scraped loudly across the floorboards and stood up. "I can handle much more than you give me credit for apparently," he said hotly.

Her mouth turned down and she raised her brows. "Is that what you think?" she responded tiredly. "You think I give you no credit? Sweet Circe, Severus, you're acting stupid."

"I am not stupid!" he shouted angrily. His mother jumped, and he immediately regretted raising his voice at her. He placed a hand on his forehead and began to massage his temple where he could feel his pulse racing. He was a complete idiot, yelling at her like that—like his father--and the thought made him feel sick to his stomach. "I'm fine," he said quietly. "I know what I'm capable of doing."

Eileen didn't reply, and merely watched him with a sad, worried expression on her face.

Severus decided to change the subject. "Here," he said, digging in his trouser pocket. He pulled out a sack of money, and placed it on the table. "That is the remainder of my summer wages. Take it. Hide it from him; I want you to have it." He cast his eyes downwards and turned to go, but was stopped by the sound of her voice clearing.

"Keep it," she said softly. He heard her chair scrape across the floor, the jingle of coins, and her soft footsteps padding across the floor. A second later the palm of her hand rested gently on his shoulder, and her other hand held the satchel out for him. "You earned it, Severus. I have no doubt you'll need it someday. Save it for the right time."

He nodded and, sensing the waning of emotions, turned and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you."

* * *

"Oy! Severus!" a voice called out to him, and a moment later a familiar figure with brown, wavy hair came into view. It was Rosier, luggage in tow. "Looks like someone didn't go to Majorca," he said, grinning lopsidedly and coming to an abrupt stop in front of Severus. 

Severus shook his head, but smiled nonetheless. "I'm rather glad I didn't, as it looks as though you were there, and I wouldn't have really had a holiday then." Rosier's skin was brown and there were golden streaks in his hair, obvious signs that he was somewhere with much better weather than Great Britain had been having.

Evan laughed. The white gleam of his teeth was even more stunning now that he sported a tan. "There's good Quidditch weather in Majorca," he said, ruffling his hair absently.

"Not that that will help you in Scotland," Snape replied pointedly. He'd set down his battered trunk in front of the scarlet train, observing the bustle around him. There were notable diffences in his fellow students, some were taller, some were redder, some thinner, others had haircuts that made them look quite different, and for a moment, Snape wondered if he looked at all different. He sincerely doubted it.

"No, it won't," agreed Rosier. "No matter." His hazel eyes followed a witch with long, dirty-blonde hair that walked past them. "Have you seen Lestrange?" he asked absently.

"No," Severus replied, "you're the first person I've seen, besides…" He'd been about to say Barty Crouch, but Lily Evans had just barrelled through the barrier between platforms, and his voice caught in his throat. She was pink in the face and out of breath, and her hair was blown into a tangle across her face. She dropped her trunk and began to comb it through with her fingers. Snape's lip quivered with amusement as he observed her struggle.

Rosier turned to look in the direction he was staring. He gave a low whistle, and his mouth curled up into a smirk much like a cat's. "She's got legs up to her ears," he murmured, then wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Pity she's a mudblood. What a waste of a good looking girl."

Evans was walking towards them, presumably to join the queue to board the train. As she neared the spot where the Slytherin boys were standing, Rosier winked at Snape and called out to her. "Hey, Evans," he said rather smarmily, "if you're ever wondering what it's like to be filled with years of ancient magic, come and find me, eh?"

Evans, who'd stopped long enough to get the gist of what Rosier was saying, looked incredulous. Severus felt a hot flush of embarrassment creeping up from the collar of his robes. "Shut it, will you?" he hissed. Of course Rosier would choose to be a jerk now of all times. It would be too convenient for him to have said it with someone like Lestrange or Avery present.

Evans met his gaze for a moment, not looking particularly appreciative of Severus's lame interference, and a second later turned her attention back to Rosier. "The only time I'll be looking for you, Rosier, is when I'm scanning the Prophet for wizards in Azkaban." She made a rude gesture with her free hand and stalked off.

"It's not even the beginning of term and you're going to lose us points," Severus finished angrily. "She's a prefect, you know."

"Right, right," Rosier replied in a dismissive manner. His cheeks were also flushed, but he didn't say much about Evans' retort, despite the fact that his eyes had narrowed dangerously and followed her figure as she boarded the train. Severus remained with Rosier, clinging to the small hope that his association with dunderheads wouldn't cause her to retaliate in a way that would hurt his status in Slytherin house.

"Well, well, if it isn't you two arseholes." Rabastan Lestrange had walked up behind them, alongside Fulton Wilkes during Rosier's little show.

"It's nice to see you, too," Severus said in manner of a greeting.

Rosier greeted them cheerfully, turning to Wilkes. The auburn-haired boy stood nearly a foot taller than Severus, but Rosier could look him squarely in the eye. "Not Head Boy?" Rosier asked enquiringly, peering down at Wilkes' robes. "Pity."

Wilkes immediately scowled down at his unadorned school robes and ran a hand down the front of them absently. "No," he said in a gruff voice. "And neither is Avery."

Rabastan looked both startled and irritated by this revelation; his eyes flickered towards the students boarding the train. "If it even went to Longbottom," he started, voice tight with threat. He didn't continue, and instead cleared his throat and spat on the ground. Everyone present understood his comment. Longbottom's appointment as Head Boy would not favourable for Slytherin. If he did happen to have been chosen, Lestrange's reaction would not be pleasant—he'd likely lash out in the nastiest way possible.

Severus spoke before Rabastan could actually find the words to voice his threat. "It could be that Ravenclaw boy," he suggested, "Rookwood." The boys all looked at him, considering this. "He was a prefect, after all." Rookwood wouldn't be a bad candidate, either, he thought. Although Rookwood hadn't been present at the Lestrange's engagement party, Severus had an inclination that the Ravenclaw prefect desired involvement in the Dark Lord's affairs.

"He'd be better than Longbottom," Wilkes agreed after a moment. "I don't know him very well, though. I had Herbology with him, but he never said much to me."

Snape privately thought that it might not be long before they got to know Rookwood a whole lot better, but refrained from voicing that opinion.

"Does anyone know who Head Girl is?" Rosier asked in interest. "Meadows, is it?"

"Marlene McKinnon," both Rabastan and Fulton replied flatly.

"Blast." Rosier wrinkled his nose and groaned. "She's a right bitch."

Severus was inclined to agree with Evan. His experiences around McKinnon were not what one would consider pleasant, and her actions as Head Girl would starkly contrast Bellatrix's. The Slytherins would have to tread very carefully.

Lestrange grunted and picked up his trunk. "Come on," he huffed, "let's get on and claim a compartment already." They lumbered behind him, making their way down the aisle until Wilkes kicked a couple of first years out of a suitable compartment and pronounced it Slytherin territory. They were situating themselves when a timid knock came from the door.

Rabastan tilted his head and glared at the doorway. "What is it?" he called out aggressively.

The door slid open and Regulus poked his head in, looking pink in the face. "Hello," he greeted them. "I was looking for Carrow." He stepped into their compartment, blue eyes flickering around the cabin. "They want him in the prefects compartment."

A gold badge glinted on Regulus's robes, and Severus lifted an eyebrow, peering at it curiously. "You're a prefect then?" he mused.

Suddenly everyone's attention was focused on Regulus, and he shrank away, cheeks burning. "Yes," he said, nodding.

"No kidding," said Rosier. "Congratulations."

"Showing up your brother, I see?" Rabastan said with a smirk. "Way to make mummy proud."

Regulus shook his head modestly. "It's not a big deal," he muttered dismissively. "Professor Slughorn probably mentioned something to Dumbledore…" His voice drifted off and he shrugged. "Anyhow, if you see Carrow, tell him Longbottom is looking for him."

The amused look on Rabastan's face faded quickly and he made a disgusted sound. "Longbottom?" he growled.

Regulus winced. "Er…yes. He's Head Boy this year." Severus noticed an apologetic tone in the boy's voice, as if the rest of the Slytherins would blame him for Longbottom's newly acquired position.

Wilkes let out a string of expletives that would make even Filch blush. Rosier and Severus exchanged looks, but said nothing.

Regulus must've sensed the upsurge in anger, because he bowed his head respectfully and turned back towards the aisle. "I've got to go," he said. "McKinnon's just itching for me to be late, I can feel it." He frowned then, indicating his own displeasure at the way things were starting out. "See you at the feast." His hopeful gaze rested on Severus, who nodded in acknowledgement. He'd been expecting Regulus to join him at the hip for the train ride, and was surprisingly relieved that he didn't have to worry about that now.

He could have a peaceful train ride, with the exception of the brooding compartment. He hadn't experienced the displeasure of crossing paths with Potter or Black, Evans wasn't going to tell the school that he was a half-blood, and his housemates would entertain themselves with ideas of how to hex the Head Boy and Girl for the next few hours, at least.

Perhaps it_was_ shaping up to be a pretty good year.

* * *

**A/N**: To my readers, I sincerely apologize for the long delay between updates. It has been an incredibly busy time for me, and I'd wanted to sit down and write something decent, but hadn't had the chance up until now. This is a transitional chapter, but now that Severus has entered his sixth year I have many plans and (hopefully) will be able to write swiftly.

I waited so long JK released the Black Family tree and really screwed up the "canon" in my story in that respect. Oh well. Once this has finished I will go back and attempt to fix things. Muses willing, this will be before the release of book 7.

Thank you so much for your patience.


	7. The Draught of Living Death

**Another Plane of Existence**  
Chapter Seven  
The Draught of Living Death

"And now that you've all been reminded of Mr. Filch's ever-expanding list of rules, contraband, and," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in amusement, "ramifications, I have one final announcement to make."

Severus leaned forward, resting his sharp elbows on the table and placing his chin in the palms of his hands. His stomach was protesting its emptiness in a low series of grumbles, and he was quite ready for the Headmaster's speech to come to an end. Similar rustling and whispers around the hall made it apparent that he wasn't the only one tired and ready for a good meal.

"I'm sure many of you have read reports of increasing threats and hostility in the Daily Prophet, tied to a radical group who call themselves Death Eaters." Dumbledore's clear, blue eyes surveyed the hall, lingering on each of the students, if only for a moment. Severus had always found his gaze unsettling, especially when he was subjected to it for more than a few seconds. "These reports are not unfounded, and I urge you to proceed with extreme caution both inside and outside of Hogwarts."

Severus and Rabastan exchanged looks. Rabastan's brow wrinkled in confusion, and he shook his head slightly, shrugging his shoulders. Apparently, other students were also looking puzzled because Dumbledore nodded emphatically, the silvery hairs in his beard glittering in the candlelight. "Oh yes, I can assure you that I do everything within my power to ensure your safety while you are under my care, but my actions are limited by your own decisions. Dumbledore paused and gave the entire student body a grave look. "I suggest you choose wisely."

The Great Hall went quiet. Everyone seemed to be waiting for further explanation. Even the professors, Severus noted, looked weary. Professor McGonagall's eyes were locked on Dumbledore, and her lips were pursed. Slughorn was frowning, stroking an end of his moustache thoughtfully. Dumbledore, however, did not seem disposed to impart any more information, and instead sat down and tucked his beard back away from the table.

Next to Severus, Rabastan snorted and shook his head, muttering something unintelligible.

Severus didn't pay any mind to Rabastan, but did feel the need to lift an eyebrow when Dumbledore grabbed a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. "Enjoy the feast," the eccentric Headmaster announced cheerfully. Immediately, heaping piles of delicious food filled the empty serving pieces on each table.

It was as if he hadn't addressed the students with an important warning at all.

Everyone in the hall slowly began helping himself and herself to food, exchanging personal conclusions as to where Dumbledore's speech had stemmed from. Though a good portion of the Slytherin table had an idea why the Death Eaters had been mentioned, they didn't necessarily find it unsurprising. After all, Dumbledore had not mentioned his concerns about the current politics before.

An unsettling feeling developed in the pit of Severus's stomach, though he wasn't sure if he could merely attribute it to near-starvation or not. In any case, he kept quiet while the others discussed how Hogwarts' student population might be affected by Death Eaters, deciding it would be in his best interest to simply listen and file away the information for later examination.

"What was that all about?" someone asked.

Severus, who'd been solely fixated on devouring the Cornish pasty in front of him, glanced up and spotted Florence, who'd approached the table and was eyeing the selection of food in front of the boys. He eyed her with disinterest before turning back to his meal. He sincerely doubted that she was clueless as to where Dumbledore's small speech stemmed from, and he knew very well that she wasn't there to engage him in conversation. Rosier was sitting across from him, after all.

"Maybe he's worried we're all going to turn into Death Eaters and start a murderous rampage throughout the school," Rosier replied lightly.

Snape paused long enough to observe their interaction. Florence had rolled her eyes to the ceiling, but her lips were curled up into an amused smile. Rosier still had his back to her and was waggling his eyebrows at the Slytherin boys in a mischievous fashion. The boys groaned and gave him dirty looks, which of course only encouraged him, so he shifted slightly and gave Florence an admiring look. Looping his arm around her waist, Rosier pulled her to him. "How was your summer, Flo?"

"Oh, it was good," she said absently. She placed her hand on top of Rosier's head and ran her fingers through his hair. It was a graceful, affectionate gesture that both intrigued and disgusted Severus. He shoved a bite of Cornish pasty into his mouth.

"Did you miss me?" Rosier asked. He didn't bother looking at her; his eyes were fixated absently on something over Severus's left shoulder.

Florence's cheeks flushed pink; she was obviously unwilling to admit anything of the sort in front of a bunch of teenaged boys. She removed her hand from Evan's hair and squeezed his shoulder gently. "If you can find me later, I'll give you your answer," she whispered. Lowering her lashes coyly, she nodded to the other boys, grabbed a scone from the plate in front of Rosier, and left. The boys watched her settle down on the bench a ways away, next to Narcissa and Amycus Carrow.

"When you find out the answer to that, Evan," Rabastan piped up wryly, "you'd better share the knowledge."

Evan snorted. "I'm not going to have you wanking off to obscene fantasies based on my love life," he replied. "Get your own bird, why don't you?"

Rabastan's gaze drifted to Narcissa and back again, not bothering to be discreet about it. Evan watched him and laughed derisively. "If she's your goal," he added, "then you're better off in your own little fantasy world."

Severus, sharing a similar opinion, sniggered, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're not pretty enough," he said with a snort, thinking of Lucius Malfoy.

This, of course, was incredibly amusing to the rest of the Slytherins, with the exception of Rabastan.

Severus picked up his goblet and lifted it to his twisted smirk, completely unaware that something mushy and wet was flying at his forehead. It hit him with a soft slopping sound, bouncing off of his nose and landing in his goblet with a plop. He yelped angrily and glared into his drink. A piece of cooked carrot was floating in his pumpkin juice, and he stared at it, torn between shock and anger.

The other Slytherins must have found the look on his face hysterical, seeing as that they were all nearly falling off their benches with laughter. Rabastan was the only one not laughing, though he did have a suspiciously smug look on his face. He crossed his arms over his chest and exhaled loudly out of his nose. "Says the prettiest bloke in Slytherin house, Severus Snape." His wide mouth curled up into a sneer. "Orange suits you, by the way. Perhaps the next set of dress robes you buy—maybe to celebrate your fortieth birthday—will be orange."

"Sod off," Severus replied tartly, and grabbed his fork, stabbing at his pasty furiously. Although he considered throwing food beneath him, he did maintain a certain esteem for cutting remarks. "I may not be pretty, but at least no one has ever questioned whether or not there is troll blood in my lineage."

Rabastan blinked at him, and Severus saw something nasty developing behind his brown eyes. He dropped his hand to his side, gently patting the pocket where his wand was hidden. He'd be ready should Lestrange decide to try anything.

Rabastan, however, seemed more interested in the origin of that rumour than hexing Snape, which was, by and large, lucky. Severus didn't really want to lose points on the first day of school.

Lestrange fixed him with a dark look. "Who said that?" he demanded.

Severus shrugged. "Some girls."

This, of course, seemed to infuriate Rabastan even further, which was Severus's intention. "Which girls?" Rabastan snapped, frowning and turning his head to eye every female who was present in the Great Hall. "Who was it?"

Snape swiped at his forehead with a napkin, grinning maliciously. "Oh, there were so many of them I could hardly pinpoint an individual voice," he said, enjoying the furious growl that was Lestrange's reply.

"More than one of them?" Lestrange finally managed to sputter. "Which house were they in?"

Snape shook his head slowly, still smiling. "It's hard to say," he said silkily. "I told you that there were quite a lot of them."

"Who were they?" Rabastan bellowed, slamming his fist down onto the table. Naturally, this attracted a lot of attention, even from the professors' table, and the boys immediately began to shrink under Professor McGonagall's stern glare.

Rosier grunted unappreciatively. "Who cares?" he said dismissively, then shook his fork at both Severus and Rabastan. "They're probably the same ninnies that think Snape is part vampire. Now, will you let me enjoy my dinner in peace, please? You've nearly driven me to join the firsties." He eyed them both with an unorthodox (for Rosier, anyhow), severe stare that shut both Rabastan and Severus up, if only for a moment.

Severus was caught off guard by Rosier's sharp reproval, and Lestrange also appeared to be surprised, but it didn't stop either of them from being suspicious of his new behaviour. Severus turned to see if Florence had been watching them, and sure enough, she was gazing at Rosier with what Severus could only assume was admiration.

He shook his head. "You'll stop at nothing," he muttered to Rosier. "Pathetic." He glanced back in Florence's direction and happened to catch Narcissa's eye. Her gaze flickered to Florence and back, and she shook her head, though the movement was so slight he nearly thought he'd imagined it.

They exchanged amused looks, obviously sharing like sentiments, and Narcissa gave him a small smile before turning back to the girls, leaving him to stare bemusedly at the tidy knot in which her hair was done. He tried his best to seem unaffected by the private exchange, knowing fully well that Lestrange could possibly be watching. It was hard to get most things concerning Narcissa past Rabastan, mostly because he fancied her. Severus didn't want to start any more trouble, and Rabastan could easily misconstrue any interest Severus showed in Narcissa. Still, the small, shared moment left him feeling pleased.

"Pathetic?" Rosier chuckled, apparently oblivious to the goings-on in his surrounding environment. "You won't be thinking that later, when you're lonely and cold in your bed."

Severus scowled at him, but didn't waste any effort on arguing that point.

* * *

The potions classroom had changed only a little since last term. The jars and bottles of various ingredients had been refilled, the tables had been scrubbed and purged of any telltale burn marks or accident stains, and a cauldron of something that smelled intoxicating bubbled near the front of the room. Even though he wasn't exactly fond of Professor Slughorn, the potions room did offer Severus a certain amount of comfort. It was the one class in which he felt at ease since entering Hogwarts, and he had been able to excel without much strenuous effort. 

He was the first to arrive for NEWT level potions, it seemed, so he walked over to the front corner table, set down his satchel with a soft thud, and made his way over to the large cauldron to inspect it. The surface of the opalescent potion shimmered, and spiralling wisps of steam rose towards the ceiling. He stood over the potion and leaned down, narrowing his eyes at the forming bubbles. A rather large one popped, and a fresh burst of aroma reached Severus's nose. The scent filled him with both contentment and longing.

Unfortunately, it only lasted a minute—exactly to the point at which he realized just what was holding his interest.

"You must be joking," he muttered, quickly taking a step backwards.

At first glance he'd suspected that it was a feminine potion in nature, perhaps some sort of cosmetic brew, what with the steam spirals and the mother-of-pearl sheen. Upon further inspection, however, he realized it was what he should have suspected in the first place--a love potion. He'd never had a high opinion of love potions, considering them silly and pathetic, and standing in such close proximity to one left him with a queer feeling in the pit of his stomach.

…Of course, he might also be able to attribute his discomfort to the fact that he was inexorably drawn to the aroma emanating from the brew. Unable to restrain himself, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply; the vapours were captivating.

"Ah, Severus," a jaunty voice greeted him. His eyes snapped open and fixed on Professor Slughorn, who was smiling at him from behind his large moustache. "Enjoying the Amortentia, are you? I thought you would find it intriguing."

'Amortentia,' Snape thought, 'of course.' It was the greatest love potion in the world; he'd heard of it before. He opened his mouth to say so, but cut himself short upon hearing Slughorn's little comment. "You thought I would?" he repeated, thinning his lips. Somehow he didn't think Slughorn would be concerned about his love life, or lack thereof. Did he think Severus was some pitiable, wanton student whose only opportunity at love would be through a potion? His hair nearly curled at the thought.

"Of course," Slughorn answered jovially. "You're one of my most dedicated potions students. I thought you might be interested to see it, considering the fact that the brewing process is so involved."

"Oh." Severus mentally cursed himself for thinking so defensively. "I did find it interesting," he admitted, somewhat ruefully. "What makes the smell so alluring?" He noticed movement in his peripheral vision and saw Evans approaching them, bag slung over her shoulder. His fingers clenched at his sides involuntarily.

"Gardenias," she answered, placing her bag on the table next to Severus's. "I smell gardenias, and it's lovely!" She walked up to the cauldron, brushed her hair back behind her ears, and peered into it inquisitively.

"Lovely, indeed," Slughorn chuckled. He beamed at her. "You may smell gardenias, my dear, but I assure you that gardenias are not on the ingredient list."

"No?" She sounded surprised. "Oh, well, it smells just like my mother's garden."

Though Eileen Snape had no garden to speak of, Severus wasn't unfamiliar with the smell of gardenias. "I don't smell it," he announced with a raised brow.

Evans opened her mouth to say something, but didn't have the opportunity to answer. More students were arriving, and like Severus and Lily, they were all attracted to the Amortentia. Rabastan and Florence soon flanked Severus, both inhaling deeply.

Florence sighed dreamily before giving a small nod of acknowledgement to both Snape and Lestrange. He nodded once, and felt slightly relieved that he wasn't alone with Evans anymore. Severus could make out Black, Potter, and Pettigrew's faces on the other side of the cauldron, faces obscured by the spiralling steam. Lupin, predictably, was not there, which was a shame only for the fact that he was the most tolerable out of the lot of them. If their presences weren't reality checks, Severus wasn't sure what was. The intoxicating smell nearly turned sour on his palate. He had so hoped that they wouldn't pass their O.W.L.s.

"Cor, it smells so good I could drink it," Black said with a grin. "Like liquid sticky buns." His grey eyes flickered around the room for confirmation, though they didn't linger over the small group of Slytherins for very long. "It's making me hungry."

"I don't smell sticky buns," a Ravenclaw contended.

Florence shook her head and frowned. "No, not sticky buns. Don't you smell aftershave?" She bit her lip shyly and glanced around. "It's sort of like aftershave, I think."

There was a lot of sniffing and mumbling going on as the students tried to detect the possible ingredients. Severus inhaled again, trying to discern gardenias or aftershave from the scent, but he simply didn't smell them. He even tried to identify sticky buns, though he felt fairly certain that sticky buns were not active ingredients in this particular potion. He highly doubted that they were ingredients in any existing potion, for that matter. Black was such a dunderhead.

Professor Slughorn bobbed around the cauldron, stirring it with a large ladle and looking exceptionally pleased with himself. He didn't appear to be ready to reveal the ingredient list, hanging the ladle back onto the wall and rubbing his palms together excitedly.

"Well?" he prompted, "what else do you smell?"

Potter cleared his throat. "Peter and I both smell butterbeer." He sniffed again and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Is anyone else reminded of the Three Broomsticks?"

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, that too," he agreed. "I can smell that."

Rabastan, on the other hand, shook his head. "It doesn't have a sweet smell," he scoffed. "It's not aftershave, either," he said, looking down at Florence in disgust. Severus wondered if he, too, suspected that it was Rosier's aftershave she smelled. "It's more like Gringotts. You know, when you're riding down to your vault. That's the smell." His nostrils flared as he took another whiff. "It's good, whatever it is."

Severus didn't smell Gringotts, either, not that he had much of an idea as to what it smelled like. When he tried to distinguish the scents in the vapour, he was reminded of the library. In fact, he was sure that the smell reminded him of the library. There was also an antiquity about it that reminded him of the Slytherin common room. Perhaps that's why he found the smell so comforting. He rather liked those areas of the castle.

A dozen heads bobbed up and down in agreement. At least everyone seemed to agree on that specific point.

"Piping good," whispered Peter loudly. Snape sneered at him in disgust. Pettigrew was a piping idiot.

"Has anyone figured out why everyone perceives the smell of Amortentia differently?" Slughorn asked. He eyed the classroom expectantly, gaze flickering between Severus and Lily.

Severus cleared his throat. "Each person who smells Amortentia perceives the scent of what they find most," he paused, trying to find the words, "appealing."

The Gryffindor boys snickered and Severus shot them a death glare, but everyone else seemed to find this interesting. Florence, in particular, looked enchanted by this revelation.

"Very good, Severus," praised Slughorn. "Twenty points to Slytherin."

"I knew that," whinged a Ravenclaw.

"That makes perfect sense," Lily mused. "Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world, isn't it?"

"It is," replied Slughorn. "And it has an extremely difficult brewing process. I've been working on this for several months now."

"Aren't love potions frowned upon?" Rabastan asked shrewdly. "Not exactly illegal, but didn't the ministry place some sort of statutes on them?"

A normal wizard might have tried to skirt around that issue, but Slughorn shrugged it off with a dismissive chuckle. "Mr. Lestrange, I leave the legalities to the Ministry and other legal officials. My duty as a Potions Master is to supply the demand, and in this case, the demand is high."

Severus raised an eyebrow sceptically, and he wasn't the only one. The students often wondered how much of Slughorn's business was done on what Muggles would call the black market.

Slughorn waved an arm towards the tables and urged the students to take their seats. "Congratulations to all of you for your achievement in your OWLS and subsequent placement into this class. I was just remarking to Headmaster Dumbledore how pleased I was upon receiving my class roster; many of you show promise in the art of potion brewing." His eyes glittered wily. "Some of you, no doubt, will be able to assist me in a special project that I will be beginning later this term."

Severus recognized the glitter in Slughorn's eyes. It was a hungry look, like a predator hunting its prey, and Severus was no fool; long ago he'd come to the conclusion that Slughorn used his students for his own benefit. And, like most things that Slughorn dealt with, the benefit probably had some sort of monetary value.

The students settled themselves into the four tables in the Potions classroom. Severus took his seat at the far table, and Lestrange and Florence soon joined him. Evans, whose bag was next to Severus's, sat down on the stool beside him without a word.

He looked at her sharply and then darted a glance at his tablemates. Florence was eyeing Evans in a hostile sort of way, and Lestrange had an uninviting scowl plastered across his face.

"What do you think you're doing, mudblood?" he growled contemptuously.

Severus closed his eyes briefly, preparing for the worst. Why did she insist on putting herself in compromising positions? She was extremely foolish. He sighed and opened his eyes, waiting for Evans' response and sincerely wishing that she'd had enough sense to sit somewhere else—somewhere where she was wanted.

"I'm sitting," Evans snapped. "I suppose it was foolish of me to think that obvious."

Lestrange took in a breath of air with a hiss. "You need to move," he grunted. "Now."

Evans wouldn't look at any of them, but she didn't budge from her seat, either. "No," she said quietly.

Dear Merlin, what was she doing? Snape desperately wanted to rub away the headache that was beginning to pulse at his temples. His mind was reeling, frantically trying to come up with something to rectify the current situation. Beads of sweat began to develop along his hairline, and he opened his mouth, searching for the correct words that would not alienate him from Florence, Rabastan, or Lily. What could he say? He simply had no idea.

"Why don't you sit with Potter and Black?" Florence asked suspiciously.

Lily made an indignant "Tuh," sound and shook her head. Her eyes were still glued to the front of the room.

Snape shook his head in bewilderment. He couldn't decide if she was mental or cheeky for choosing Lestrange as a tablemate over Potter, but he was leaning towards the former. He was about to tell her she'd be better off taking a seat at another table when an idea struck him like a bolt of lightning. He curled his mouth up into an acerbic grin.

"I wager Longbottom's got something to do with it," he said softly. He turned and fixed both Florence and Rabastan a knowing look. "He's probably ordered all of the prefects to keep an eye on any suspicious activity." He snorted derisively and tilted his head back towards Evans. "I'm sure that three Slytherins sitting together would seem terribly suspicious to a Gryffindor, what with the rivalry and all. Evans here probably felt it was her duty to investigate."

He wouldn't let himself turn around and look at her. Instead, he watched Florence and Rabastan. They looked as though they were nearly convinced.

"You think so?" asked Florence.

"Would you put it past him?" Snape countered.

She frowned. "No."

"Is that it?" demanded Rabastan. "Were you put up to this?"

Lily muttered something that ended with "…ridiculous."

Severus didn't know if she had made any facial expressions or not, but whatever she did seemed to further persuade Rabastan. "Well, go on and sit here, then," he said. "You can go report back to Longbottom," Longbottom's name was spat vehemently, "and tell him that I said he was a gormless duffer."

Severus nearly laughed, and finally allowed himself a triumphant look in Evans' direction. She was pink in the face, but still staring resolutely at the front of the classroom. She seemed to be trying her best not to glare at them.

"I'll pass that along," she said, and Severus took note of the sarcasm in her voice. She didn't, however, dispute his allegations, which pleased him.

Slughorn cleared his throat loudly from the front of the classroom, signalling everyone's attention. "Page ten in your books, please," he announced. "Today you will be attempting the Draught of Living Death--a complicated little potion that should get you back into the swing of potions brewing." He walked over to his desk and took a seat in a large chair, settling his hands over his rotund belly. "You may check for ingredients in the stores should you need them," he continued, "otherwise, you may begin."

The students started preparing their ingredients for the potion. Sounds of meticulous chopping, scraping, and igniting fires filled the classroom. Severus, unlike the others, had not immediately started divvying up the necessary ingredients. Instead, he was studying the instructions thoughtfully, tracing his lips with a finger as he decided how to approach the potion. The Draught of Living Death caused people to fall into a death-like slumber. He'd looked it over before and remembered his interest; it was a useful potion. Perhaps it would be the right time to test out his theory.

He began preparing the infusion of asphodel and wormwood, finding some amusement in the fact that asphodel was part of the lily family. He might have even turned to Lily and inquired whether or not she was aware of that minor fact, had Rabastan and Florence not been present. Instead, he focused on his infusion, nostrils flaring at the scent of the wormwood, which was similar to menthol.

"Blasted thing," Rabastan grumbled. Severus gave him a sidelong glance. Lestrange continued to curse under his breath, struggling to cut his sopophorous bean into tiny, equal pieces. His potion was a deep, rich purple colour, just as the text said it would, but extracting juice from the sopophorous bean seemed to giving him difficulties.

Severus turned his attention back to the infusion, carefully adding it to the other ingredients in his cauldron. His potion turned a dark, rich shade of purple, similar to Rabastan's, and it immediately began to emit the thick, bluish vapour that was already moving about the classroom in a haze. Good, he thought, and nodded at his work with satisfaction. He turned to his potions kit and pulled out a vial containing the shrivelled sopophorous beans, tapping one out onto his cutting slate. Surely cutting the little bean wouldn't be that difficult.

Unfortunately, he soon realized, it was quite difficult. In fact, he only managed to cut his bean once, and its slices produced nowhere near the amount of juice the draught required. It was infuriating. He had no desire to struggle with the blasted bean for the rest of the class period, and wondered if anyone had managed to juice it correctly. As he glanced around the classroom, he noticed that most of the students seemed to be tied up on this particular step. Wary glances and haggard glares were exchanged, and there was a long queue gathering behind the sharpening stone. Most students seemed to attribute their difficulties to a dull knife blade, Florence included.

He snuck a look at Evans, who was biting her lip in concentration. The blade of her silver dagger kept glancing off the rounded edge of the hard, shrivelled bean. She gave a dissatisfied grunt, flipped her dagger around to the flat end, and squashed the bean. An astonishing amount of juice was secreted, and Snape narrowed his eyes at her.

"How did you know to do that?" he demanded in a hoarse whisper.

She blinked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. "I didn't," she whispered back. "I was simply frustrated…" She shrugged and tapped her dagger on her slate. "Bloody thing. I can't believe that crushing it worked so well."

Severus couldn't either, and it bothered him quite a bit. He was tempted to crush his own bean, but he didn't fancy copying Evans. Potions was competitive, and if he were to keep his spot on the top, he'd do it on his own accord. He didn't want to hear her announcing later that he'd copied her work.

And so, he continued to struggle with the bean, trying not to look fiercely jealous when Lily's potion turned the correct shade of lilac upon her addition of the sopophorous juice.

He froze five minutes later, when she elbowed him gently and nudged her silver dagger in his direction. He stared at it for a moment, comprehending the meaning behind its invitation. Did this mean she didn't mind if he used her idea? he wondered. Had the situation been reversed, Severus most certainly wouldn't have thought to let someone else have a chance at mastering the potion, even if he had made the discovery on accident. Then again, Evans was a strange witch.

Brushing his thoughts aside, he discreetly picked up her knife and crushed his bean. Rabastan and Florence were so involved with their own potion that they didn't even notice. He hoped that no one else did, either. He placed it on the table between them, and made an obligatory noise in his throat, not wanting to be too obvious.

They continued to work side-by-side, potions identical to one another. Lestrange and Florence's potions were still darker shades of purple, and Snape was well aware of the dark looks they were giving both him and Lily. In fact, Florence and Lestrange had now taken to providing each other tips and going over what they had done thus far, making no attempts to offer any of that information to Snape. They didn't ask him how he managed to successfully turn his potion lilac, either.

Severus wasn't worried that they'd noticed his interaction with Lily, being certain that they hadn't, and knew their behaviour was likely due to jealousy. He didn't exactly mind when they turned their backs to him, anyhow. Besides, everyone's cauldrons were exuding so much blue steam that it was becoming difficult to see through the haze.

The instructions in his potions book directed him to stir the potion counter-clockwise. This was the step he'd been waiting for. The thing that made brewing potions different from concocting herbal remedies was the magic involved. This, of course, wasn't limited to ingredients derived from magical plant life and animals, but the fact that various other magical principles could be involved. He'd discussed it with his mother, occasionally. Things like the lunar cycle, time of year, numerology, and location often affected the way a potion would turn out.

He merely hoped that after his next little experiment, his potion would not be ruined. Upon surveillance of everyone else's potions, however, he wasn't exactly worried about how it would stand in comparison—with the exception of Evans'. He paused, weighing his options.

He could chance his theory. If he were correct, he'd likely have the most effective potion in the class. If not, Evans would take all of the glory. A crease formed between his brows—he couldn't have that; he would not take second place to Evans in Potions. This, of course, led him to another option; he could share the experiment with Evans and hope she went for it. She might even see it as reciprocation for the sopophorous bean, which would also prove to be beneficial. If he was wrong, then both potions would be ruined and there would be no real loss. If he wasn't, well, then they'd both share the credit for the day. He'd pull ahead of her as term wore on.

Yes, he decided, sharing his theory with Evans would definitely be to his benefit. He turned his back to Lestrange and Florence, who still refused to acknowledge him, and tapped a finger on Evans' textbook. She started and looked at him expectantly.

He spoke to her in a low voice. "What can you tell me about the number seven?" he asked.

If she was confused by his sudden query, she didn't show it. "Seven is a magical number," she replied in an equally soft voice. "It holds an important significance in most cultures and is referenced in just about every system of antiquity."

He nodded appreciatively at her knowledge. Evans had managed to impress him. "The perfect number," he murmured. "Have you ever read about the Hippocratic notes in relation to the number seven?"

"No."

"They say that the number seven brings all things into being," he informed her. "The dispenser of life, the source of all change. A primary influence in things Muggles call occult."

She arched an eyebrow. "What does this have to do with the Draught of Living Death?"

"It gives life, Evans," he replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Wouldn't it make sense for a potion giving life from near-death to involve the number seven?"

"I suppose so," she replied hesitantly. "What are you getting at?"

"When you cook," he asked her, "how concerned are you with following the recipe precisely?"

"Not very, I suppose, but I don't necessarily think tampering with a potion is a good ide—"

"—Which is exactly why you won't advance any further," he interrupted with a snap. Realizing that he might be attracting attention, he lowered his voice again. "Potions is an art, not an exact science."

She looked bemused by his comment, but shook her head and glanced at the text expectantly. "Well?" she whispered, "what are we doing, then?"

Severus allowed himself a small smile, and then he divulged his theory. Together, they agreed on adding a clockwise stir after seven counter-clockwise ones. They stood side by side, each staring at their potions expectantly, and Evans gasped. Much to Snape's pleasure, the potion turned a shade of pale pink directly after the clockwise stir. He held back the 'I told you so' that was on the tip of his tongue.

Evans' eyes were shining as she continued to methodically stir the draught. "Brilliant," she murmured, "that was simply brilliant." Snape felt a bubble of pride in his chest. He wasn't sure if Evans was talking about his idea or the fact that they'd been successful, but it didn't matter. He smiled to himself.

"Oho!" Professor Slughorn had been walking around inspecting everyone's results, and when he reached their table, he'd stopped in his tracks. "I don't believe it! As long as I've been teaching, only a handful of students have had success with this potion." He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and rubbed his eyes disbelievingly. "And here I have two students who mastered it. Two!"

Neither Severus nor Lily said anything. The rest of the class, however, seemed unsurprised. Florence made a humphing noise.

"I'll be buggered how you both managed it," Slughorn continued. "Most students end up with something like," his eyes slid over to Rabastan's potion, "like that," he finished, pointing at the purple goop that was slowly solidifying in Rabastan's cauldron. "Gunk."

Rabastan didn't look very happy about his work being called gunk, and Severus didn't make eye contact with him.

"Did you help each other out?" Slughorn wanted to know.

"No," they said in unison, and Severus' opinion of Lily raised another notch.

"Really?" he mused. "Well, in any case, you each have earned thirty points for your house. Congratulations." He turned to survey the rest of the class. "You may clean up, now. Please don't rinse your attempts at this draught down the sink, at risk of clogging the pipes."

Rabastan made a disgruntled growl in the back of his throat.

Professor Slughorn turned back to address the Slytherin table. "Lily, Severus, please bottle up your potions. I'd like to inspect them." He gave them each a toothy grin before walking back to his chair, muttering things like "astounding" and "excellent."

Severus and Lily did as they were asked, placing identical bottles on the table for Slughorn. Then Lily gathered her things, draped her bag over her shoulder, and turned to go. Before she left, she managed to catch Severus' eye and give him a wink. Potter, Black, and Pettigrew, who were too busy chatting with each other to notice, trailed after her, offering congratulatory remarks.

"Wish you would've gotten one over on Snape, though," Black lamented.

Severus' lips clamped together, but it wasn't because of Black's remark. That was expected. It was because he felt strangely embarrassed by her gesture, even if it was minute. He gathered up his things and pulled his textbook close. Not wanting to forget anything, he took out a quill and began to write down the modified steps to the Draught of Living death, including Lily's discovery with the dagger and the sopophorous bean.

In his peripheral vision he could see Florence and Rabastan leaving. They didn't bother to say anything to him.

A few minutes later he finished scribbling in the margins, shut the book with a snap, and gathered his things to go. He made one final sweep of the table with his eyes to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and noticed a small scrap of parchment lying next to the bottles on the table. He picked it up, read it, and tucked it into his pocket.

_Perhaps experimentation isn't so bad_, it read. _This was fun_.

And perhaps all Gryffindors aren't so bad, he amended, exiting the classroom. He'd intended on going to the library, having a strong urge to visit it after smelling it for so long, but decided on returning to the Common Room to drop off his things. Most of the students from Potions class had already cleared off, so he was left to his thoughts as he ambled through the dungeon corridors. Surprisingly, most of his thoughts centred on his surreptitious collaboration with Evans.

As he turned a corner and approached the entrance to the common room, someone grabbed him and pulled him into a shadowed alcove. They'd moved so swiftly that he hadn't had any time to react. All he could manage was a strangled "What the hell?" before he was shoved into the stone wall behind him. His skull hit the wall with a nauseating crack and he began to see stars.

A figure loomed over him, though he couldn't make out who it was because his vision was still blurry.

"We need to have a chat," the figure said, and Severus swore as he saw the figure flick a wand in his direction. "Accio wand."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you to all of my patient readers, I'm sorry it's taken me so long between updates, but life has been hectic. That being said, things are finally beginning to slow down, and I've already started the next chapter, so those of you who are dying to know what happens (terrible cliffie, I know...) will hopefully find out within the next couple of weeks! 


	8. Shaken by Violence

--Previous disclaimers apply

**Chapter Eight  
Shaken by Violence**

Severus felt his wand tug against his pocket as it was summoned away from him, though he was in no state to react. The back of his head had contacted the wall with such force that his ears were ringing and he felt nauseous and light-headed. Clutching at the back of his head with his hand, he tenderly felt around for any sticky, wet signs of blood. There seemed to be none, which was a small relief.

"I don't know what your friends think they're doing," the voice said, "but it needs to stop."

Severus's vision was finally returning now that his eyes had stopped tearing, and he blinked at the figure in front of him in astonishment. It took him a moment, but he was finally able to place the wide-set build, dark complexion, and aquiline nose. He'd half expected to be Potter, or even Black, but was wholly unprepared to find himself face to face with a Ravenclaw. "Rookwood?" he grunted, torn between surprise and fury. He'd never spoken to Rookwood a day in his life. "I have no idea what you're on about."

"Don't you?" Rookwood's eyes glinted in the darkness. "I find that hard to believe. The entire Slytherin Common room is probably laughing themselves silly over their rubbish idea of a joke."

Completely flummoxed, Severus shook his head. The action made his vision swim once again, and his stomach lurched disapprovingly. He took a deep breath before speaking. "I'm telling you that I haven't any idea what you're talking about." Rookwood's audacity was beginning to make his blood boil, especially since he had no clue what his 'friends' had done. "Now if you would kindly give me back my wand," he added with as sinister a note to his voice he could manage. He wasn't about stand there idly and take threats.

"Not until I'm finished," Rookwood replied sharply. He jabbed his finger into Severus's chest, hard, looking untroubled when Severus swore at him. "Someone," he continued flatly, "thought it would be funny to sneak into my dorm room and plaster the Mark on my wall."

This momentarily distracted Severus from his throbbing head and sore chest. "The Dark Mark?" he asked, surprised.

"Do you think I'd be this upset if it were a peace sign?" Rookwood snapped. "It was on my wall, plain as day. I found it when I returned from Ancient Runes." He stepped away to peer out into the corridor, and Severus could tell from his stance that he was extremely agitated; Rookwood's fists were clenched and the muscles in his jaw working hard. "I don't even want to think about what would have happened if one of my roommates had seen it."

For once, Severus was completely unaware of what his housemates were up to, having heard no whispers, rumours, or anything of the sort. It made him absolutely livid that Rookwood had decided cornered him when he clearly had no involvement in their little prank. "What does this have to do with me?" Severus asked jadedly.

"You," Rookwood replied sharply, "are going to tell your mates that they'd best not do it again." He raised an arm, brandishing Severus's wand, and prodded it into the same spot he'd jabbed his finger. Severus winced involuntarily. "I don't want to be involved in that sort of bollocks," Rookwood continued. "I don't give a rat's arse if they're doing it to every pureblood student in the school. I don't need the association hanging over my head."

Rookwood could protest all he wanted, Severus thought sardonically, but Severus was quite aware of his confidential meeting with Bellatrix. He'd use the information against Rookwood in a heartbeat, if he needed to. Narrowing his eyes, he lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers around his wand, which was still digging into his chest. "I'll pass that along," he said testily. "May I go now?"

Rookwood dropped his grip on the wand and stepped back. "Go," he grunted. "But make sure they know that I have no qualms about retaliation."

Severus managed a derisive snort even though his pulse was pounding heavily in his ears. "I'll let them know." He gave Rookwood a very dark look before straightening up and walking out of the alcove. He didn't bother to turn back around. He could feel Rookwood's eyes searing a hole into the back of his head.

Five minutes later, he stalked into the Slytherin Common Room and stopped dead in his tracks, taking a quick surveillance of the Slytherins present. A handful of first years were by the fireplace, huddled in a circle and whispering in hushed tones about the Bloody Baron, who was hovering in front of the bookcase and looking quite menacing. A few other students were lounging about on the furniture, gossiping lazily and flipping through textbooks. The Slytherins Severus was looking for, however, were grouped around a game of wizard's chess between Barty Crouch and Julius Carrow. Wilkes and Lestrange were seated in opposite chairs so that they had a full view of the board. Regulus and Rosier flanked Carrow, standing at his elbows, and Florence and Hope Burke, another sixth year, were curled on either side of the leather couch, like bookends. He approached the group silently.

"Check," murmured Barty, smiling down as his knight captured Carrow's rook and threw the limp piece from the board like a rag doll. Carrow made a face, and the surrounding group tittered in amusement. Barty's chess skill was something of a novelty in Slytherin house. He was virtually undefeated, and the students who chose to play him were really merely brushing up on their own skills. Rosier had been talking about an Inter-house Chess Championship for months now, though everyone knew that he didn't care whether or not Barty gained any real status from it. Severus was fairly sure that Rosier wanted to place bets on Crouch and make a nice, little profit.

"I'd move my queen if I were you," Wilkes muttered from his armchair.

"No," argued Regulus, scrutinizing the board with furrowed brows, "don't do that. He'll capture your queen."

Wilkes sat up in the chair, squinted at the board, and harrumphed in acknowledgement. "Right. Well, do something, or else he'll have you in checkmate."

Florence, looking utterly bored by the chess game, cocked a brow at Severus. "Hello, Snape," she simpered. "Where've you been? Having a chat with Slughorn about how talented you and Evans are?" She made an obnoxious face at him, attempting a false smile.

The others turned to look at him, and he sneered at her spitefully. "Jealously doesn't flatter you, Florence." Her smile quickly faded away into a bruised pout, but he ignored this, glancing around the group. "I don't want to interrupt," he announced quietly, "but I just had a charming encounter with Augustus Rookwood in the corridor."

Regulus, Barty, Julius, and the girls stared at him blankly. Wilkes, on the other hand, looked mildly amused. "Oh?" he said.

"Yes," Severus answered flatly. "He mentioned something about a rubbish joke." Staring down at Wilkes, he folded his arms across his chest. "Do you know anything about it?"

"I might," replied Wilkes, settling back in his chair. "What did he say?"

Severus didn't know if everyone present was aware of Wilkes's little stunt, so he decided to be cryptic. "He said, in so many words, that he did not appreciate it."

"Did he?"

"He did." Severus's words were clipped and impatient. He found it difficult to control his temper, especially when his head was pounding intensely. "What were you thinking? Suppose one of the professors was to hear about it?"

Rosier, who'd observing their conversation quietly up until this point, scoffed loudly. "Oh come off it, Snape," he said. "You probably would've joined had you not been in Potions." He shrugged. "Besides, Rookwood is a Pureblood. It wasn't going to scare him."

"Maybe not," Severus replied, "but it obviously struck a nerve."

"Oh, really?" Wilkes perked up, giving a triumphant smile. "Well, serves him right." His fingers tapped the arm of the chair and he shrugged a shoulder in a casual manner. "Arrogant arse."

Severus thinned his lips. He wasn't sure what Wilkes and the others had against Rookwood, if they even disliked him at all. In fact, he was beginning to doubt that Rookwood had been the only target. He turned to address Rosier. Rosier wouldn't blink an eye before bragging about the stunt. "How many marks did you put up?"

However, before Rosier even opened his mouth to answer, Wilkes leaned forward in his chair and eyed Severus shrewdly. "What do you care?" he asked with a frown. "You weren't involved."

"I think I became involved when I became the messenger," Severus replied flatly.

Wilkes raised his eyebrows. "So you know we did Rookwood's room. Maybe that's it." He gave the other Slytherins a superior smirk.

"Somehow I don't think that's it," retorted Severus in disgust. "Who else?" He started thinking of pureblood students who wouldn't completely balk at the sight of the Dark Mark. "Peasegood?" he guessed, and then ticked off a few more names. "Shingleton? Brewster? Fraser, perhaps?"

"Hm," Rosier made an impressed face. "We should have asked you for help." He grinned and ran his hand through his hair to rake back his fringe. "You forgot McKinnon, though."

Carrow, clearly distracted from his game now, put a hand over his face. "I'm not hearing this," he moaned resolutely, and then, staring threateningly at Regulus, added, "and you're not hearing this, either. She's labelled us with a bloody stigma as it is."

Regulus shrugged.

Snape pressed his lips together so furiously that he doubted they were even visible anymore. "You did not go into McKinnon's room," he said.

"No," Rosier admitted with a grin, "but imagine what she'd have done if we had!" Carrow let out a small sigh of relief.

Wilkes nodded in agreement with Rosier. "We only did three rooms, Snape. Rookwood, Peasegood, and Brewster." He stretched his legs out and gave a large, exaggerated yawn. "Only people we knew wouldn't go running to Dumbledore."

Snape shook his head in disbelief. Sometimes he wondered whether his housemates ever thought of the consequences of their actions. Painting Dark Marks on the walls of dormitories seemed like a very immature stunt. Then again, most of the Slytherins were a little reckless since classes weren't fully in swing and their time wasn't yet occupied by studies. Hopefully Wilkes would have better things to do by the end of the week, and Rosier…well, Rosier would have no trouble finding something—or someone, more likely—to busy himself with.

Severus _was_ curious as to how they got into the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw houses, and decided to ask as much.

"That was all Evan," Wilkes said, nodding towards Rosier. "He lays on the charm, and the birds flock to him, willing to give him whatever information he wants to know." He waggled his eyebrows at Evan, who raised his shoulders indifferently.

A girl's voice piped up from the couch. "Oh, that's just brilliant." Everyone turned to stare at Florence, who quickly stood up and gave Rosier an icy stare. "Chatting up girls for passwords, are you?" she snapped accusingly. "Bet it's an added benefit if you can get into their knickers too, eh?" She withdrew her wand, looked as though she would have dearly enjoyed cursing Rosier into oblivion, and then stalked off, red-faced and curls bouncing.

"Cor," muttered Regulus. Carrow elbowed him in the side.

The rest of the boys turned to Hope, as if she could explain Florence's behaviour. Hope was a round-faced girl with nothing terribly remarkable about her appearance save her hair, which was waist-length and the colour of gold. The boys didn't usually pay much attention to her, and Severus could see her visibly wilt under their inspection. She blinked her doleful eyes at them and shook her head helplessly. "She's a bit upset from Potions, maybe," she offered, hopping off the couch and running to catch up with Florence.

"Did you get into someone's knickers?" Lestrange asked once Hope had disappeared. Up until this point, he'd been watching the action with a smile twitching at his lips.

"No." Rosier shook his head, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the girls were out of earshot, Severus presumed. He lowered his voice. "Not yet, anyway."

"Oh?" Lestrange asked. "Out with it then."

"Please tell me it wasn't Bertha Jorkins," Julius added. Wilkes let out a sharp laugh at this, and even in the dimly lit common room, it was evident that Rosier's ears were turning pink.

The entire group surrounding the chess table groaned loudly, causing the other, younger Slytherins in the room to turn and stare. Even Severus grimaced; Bertha lacked most attributes that most men found desirable, perhaps most importantly, common sense.

Rosier shook his head and held out his hands. "No, no, no," he said loudly, trying to talk over their jeers and smart remarks, "it wasn't like that with her."

"But she was trying, wasn't she?" Wilkes chortled. "Good Merlin, it was all I could do to keep from doubling over."

"Yeah, yeah," Rosier grumbled dismissively.

"He's always been the lucky bastard, that way, hasn't he?" Lestrange said. Regulus and the Barty snickered appreciatively.

"I'm not lucky," Rosier argued.

Wilkes got up out of his chair and clapped Rosier on the back. "But you are a bastard." His teeth gleamed as he smiled down at Rosier. "At least, I'm sure Florence is saying that right now."

"I'll talk to her later," muttered Rosier. "She'll come round, eventually."

"I bet she will," muttered Snape. This comment earned Rosier a lot more hair ruffling, catcalls, and rude comments. For once, he didn't seem to be basking in the glory of all the attention.

"As long as I don't have to silence your bed curtains later," said Julius. "Some of us have classes early in the morning, you know." He chuckled lightly, sighed, and turned his attention back to the game. "My turn?" he asked Barty, lifting an eyebrow. It had been so long since his last move that some of the pieces on the board were snoring, wheezing and whistling as they breathed.

The younger boy grinned broadly. "Er, sorry, Julius." He nodded down to the board with a significant look and prodded Julius's snoring king in the belly. "Checkmate."

The king, looking groggy eyed, muttered an expletive and threw down his crown before falling back into sleep.

* * *

Severus was running late to Defence Against the Dark Arts class. He hadn't intended to sleep in; in fact, he rarely did such a thing. He attributed the need for extra sleep to the knot on the back of his head and the headache throbbing in his temples. In any case, he showered quickly, grabbed his things, and hastily made his way to the classroom. 

He ended up bumping into Lupin at the doorway because he was so engrossed in making up for lost time. Lupin paused grimly and nodded at Severus, implying that he go first. Severus didn't bother acknowledging Lupin's small courtesy, sliding past him and looking for an open seat. There were only two, he noted dismally, and they were both at the same table, in the very front of the classroom. Attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible, he made his way to the table and slumped down into a chair. Lupin slouched down next to him a moment later.

It could have been worse, Severus decided. Lupin was studious, at least, and he wasn't as boisterous or irritating as his friends. There wouldn't be any idle conversation, either. Neither Lupin nor Severus liked each other very much, for obvious reasons. Unlike Potter or Black, however, Lupin was capable of being tolerant. Severus, in turn, was capable of returning the gesture.

"I do not stand for tardiness, boys," Professor Kennicot sang out, pausing in her dictation long enough to give them a stern look.

"Sorry, Professor," Lupin replied. Severus echoed this, sighing inwardly.

"Don't let it happen again," she replied, and then turned back to the class. "As I was saying, for this scenario, I'd like you to explain how you might be able to disguise yourself using various spells. The information you possess must also be passed on clandestinely." She turned, and Severus blinked bleakly at the bun in her silvery hair. He had no idea what he was supposed to be doing and cursed himself for being late. He passed a sidelong glance in Lupin's direction. The boy's brows were knitted together seriously; he was probably as bewildered as Severus was, though Severus hardly found it comforting.

Professor Kennicot raised her voice to stress her words' importance. "Make it a foot and a half of parchment, please. You may use this time to discuss your options with your neighbours." She waved a hand in their direction and shuffled over to her seat, where she promptly sat down and took a large sip from the china teacup on her desk.

The room was filled with sounds of rustling as students retrieved their rolls and quills from their satchels. Severus took a moment to look at the board, hoping there would be some clue as to what Kennicot expected. She was an odd teacher, though most students attributed her behaviour to her age, which was estimated to be about ninety or so. Rabastan kindly referred to her as "older than dirt". Perhaps it came with her many years of experience, but she really did know what she was talking about in terms of methods of defence. Unfortunately, she wasn't sprightly anymore, so she often discussed theory, letting the students make practical postulations themselves. He had to admit, they learned quite a bit that way, though it wasn't always easy.

Someone spoke up from the table behind him. "Remus!"

Severus glanced over at Lupin, who'd turned to look over his shoulder, smiling weakly. "Lily," Lupin replied, "how are you?"

"Better than you, it seems," she answered. Severus tried to engage himself by writing down Kennicot's notes on the board, but it was hard not to listen in on their conversation. "Peter said you had food poisoning," Lily continued. "Are you all right?"

Lupin paused. "Er, yes, I'm fine." There was another pause, then, "You'd think I'd have a strong stomach by now, what with all the food James and Sirius force down my throat."

Lily laughed. "Well, you do look like you could use fattening up." Lupin exhaled out his nose in amusement. "And at least being ill didn't affect your sense of humour," she added. Snape shifted in his seat so that he could see her out of his peripheral vision. She was sitting at a table with Patrice Midgen, another Gryffindor. "Do you understand what we're supposed to be doing?"

"No," Lupin admitted ruefully. "But that's what happens when you're late, I suppose." His gaze flickered over to Severus for a moment, and he added, "Do you mind filling us in on what exactly we're supposed to be doing?" Severus merely blinked at him, not exactly appreciating his inclusion. He hoped Lupin didn't think he was doing a favour.

"Not at all," Lily replied. "I think, and correct me if I'm wrong, Patrice, but I think what Kennicot means for us to do is create a scenario where we're placed in a dangerous position." Her green eyes moved from Patrice to Remus. "Sort of like being surrounded by bad guys, and we have to make it through unscathed."

Severus snorted in spite of himself. "Bad guys?" She sounded ridiculous. Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn't exactly a spaghetti western or a cops and robbers game.

Lily flushed. "Well, you know," she said, shrugging. "Evil wizards or witches."

"I understand," Remus said supportively. "Are we conveying some sort of information? Did I hear that right?" He moved to scratch his chin and the sleeves of his robes slipped back to his elbows. Severus noticed, with mild interest, a long, silvery scar on the back of his hand. Remus, catching Severus's eye, put his arm down quickly, as if to hide the scar from sight. "Sorry for asking so many questions," he apologized hurriedly, turning back to the girls.

"It's no problem, Remus," smiled Lily, and Patrice nodded enthusiastically. "And to answer your question, the," Lily paused, gaze reverting to Severus again, "the evil wizards shouldn't be able to intercept and decipher your message."

Remus sighed. "So what you're saying is that I have to go spend hours in Madam Pince's company and research every concealment spell I can think of."

Patrice giggled and gave a nod. "At least you won't be alone."

Lily shook her head sympathetically. "No, you certainly won't."

"Well, Remus, you know what I'd do?" another voice piped up. It was Potter. He'd approached the table and was standing next to Remus, grinning like an idiot. "I'd become an Animagus, meet my conspirator under the guise of oh, say, a titmouse, and pass along the information without anyone even blinking in my direction."

Remus snorted. "I'm sure you would, James."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Well, that sounds nice and simple, but considering your reckless nature and heavy appetite, I think it would turn out differently."

"Oh?" Potter blinked at her curiously from behind his spectacles. "And how is that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she said, smiling innocently. "You'd see a piece of cheese on a mousetrap somewhere, convince yourself that you're much too agile to get caught up in it, and end up breaking your neck the second after you realize that you, in fact, are wrong."

"Wow, Evans," James replied, ruffling his hair lazily, "you're very morbid. I didn't know that about you."

Patrice snickered, and Lily cracked a grin. Even Remus's mouth was twitching, though he had bowed his head in an attempt to disguise his amusement. Severus remained quiet, not wanting to elicit Potter's attention. He thought Lily was spot on about Potter, and had the sudden urge to crunch a mouse underneath his foot.

"You wouldn't even get a proper burial," Lily added with a laugh. "Someone would find you and sweep you up into a bin." She brushed the palms of her hands together. "That's that."

James clutched his heart. "A tragic ending for our young hero," he replied easily. "Anyway, I just came over to make sure Remus was feeling well." He lifted his brows at his friend. Thus far, he had completely ignored Severus, which Severus found both relieving and suspicious.

"I'm fine, James," Remus replied, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll talk with you after class."

"Right," James snapped in compliance. He turned to go, but stopped in his tracks, turning to address Lily again. "Do me favour, Evans."

"Yes?" she said expectantly.

"Don't ever tell that story in front of Peter, all right?"

Everyone looked at James strangely, except Remus, whose shoulders began to shudder with contained laughter. Lily simply shook her head, obviously perplexed. "All right."

James nodded gratefully and left to join Black and Pettigrew.

"Lily," said Remus with a cough, apparently having composed himself after James's interruption, "did Professor Kennicot mention anything about demonstrating our scenarios?"

Lily flipped her palms in the air. "No, but you know her…" She drifted off and shrugged. "It would probably be in our best interests."

"Yes," agreed Patrice, "You know what she'll say." She pursed her lips and made a face that was much like Kennicot's, raising her voice to mimic the professor's. "What good is using the Imperturbable Charm, Mr. Lupin, if you are unable to perform it properly?"

The three Gryffindors laughed together, and Severus took that as his cue to turn around and start researching potential spells that would be effective. He worked in silence, ignoring the occasional distraction from his peers. Nearly a half an hour later, he had a list of at least a dozen spells that he could develop into the type of scenario Professor Kennicot expected.

He was working so hard, in fact, that he did not notice Professor Kennicot approach the table. She cleared her throat and he started, nearly recoiling upon the realization that her face was inches from his own. She was much more wrinkly from this vantage point.

She addressed him curtly. "Mr. Snape."

"Yes, Professor?" He tried not to stare at he many lines in her dry, parchment-thin skin.

"Professor Slughorn asked that I relay a message to you." Her watery, blue eyes gazed at him, unwavering. "You're supposed to go to his office after class today. He didn't impart any more information than that, so don't bother asking." She pursed her lips in a way that gave credit to Patrice's impression and hobbled over to Evans's table.

"Thank you professor," he muttered, beginning to roll up his parchment. Professor Kennicot didn't pay him any attention though, as she was relaying an identical message from Professor Slughorn to Lily. Severus frowned, stuffing his things into his bag. Rosier and Lestrange nodded at him as they walked past towards the door. He didn't bother to tell them where he was going; they wouldn't wait for him, anyway.

Lupin spoke up. "Special project in Potions, eh?"

Severus turned to snap at Lupin for being meddling, but realized in the nick of time that Lupin was actually addressing Evans.

She shrugged. "I never know what I'm needed for until I'm there," she sighed. "Half the time it's just for a cup of tea or some mead." Remus raised his eyebrows in wonder. "I know," she said ruefully, "but trust me, it makes the time go by much more quickly."

"Do you want me to walk you down there?" asked Remus, looking concerned. "I heard someone was giving you troub—"

"—I'll be fine," Lily interrupted with a fleeting glance in Severus's direction. "I'm a prefect," she reminded him, offering a faltering smile. "Just think of it as patrol duty."

"If you're sure," Remus replied uneasily, but she waved him off with a hand.

Severus grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and rose out of his seat to leave. At that same moment, Black, Pettigrew, and Potter joined Lupin at the other side of the table.

"What's Evans sure about?" Black asked with a sly grin. "Her animosity towards James, here?" He cuffed Potter lightly on the arm.

"Oh, it's not only me, anymore," Potter said, sounding pleased. "She dislikes mice, too."

"Oh yeah?" Black's voice rose with interest. "Well you can't blame her. They're titchy little things." His grey eyes glittered humorously. "How do you feel about dogs, Lily?"

"I like dogs," she answered simply, rising out of her seat.

"Did you hear that, James?" Black announced proudly. "She likes dogs."

"Congratulations," replied Potter, looking peevish. Severus abstained from making any comments under his breath, but he truly thought they were the biggest bunch of dolts he'd ever encountered. Their conversations were absolutely meaningless.

Lily's patience also seemed to be wearing thin. "Yes, Sirius. I like dogs, and cats, and owls, and tigers, and—"

"—Rats?" Peter offered helpfully.

Lily pulled a face. "Yuck," she groaned. "Definitely not rats, Peter, sorry." He frowned, but said nothing. Lily continued walking; Severus could see her red hair out of the corner of his eye. "It was lovely chatting with you about my favourite animals," she said, "and perhaps next time we'll discuss why my favourite colour is lavender, but I've got to go meet Slughorn."

"Now?" asked Sirius.

"Yes, now," she replied impatiently.

"Do you want us to walk with you?" Potter asked, and Severus had the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

"No, I'm fine," she assured them.

"Even with _him_ two steps in front of you?" Black asked. The tone of his voice indicated a distinct implication of unpleasantness. It wasn't hard to guess who the comment was truly directed towards.

Severus, genuinely irritated now, stopped in his tracks and turned to give Black an icy look. "Me?" he asked slowly. Lily, who was directly behind him and not expecting his abrupt stop, bumped into him.

"Sorry," she muttered, but Severus ignored her.

Black was eyeballing Severus hostilely. "I don't trust my brother in your presence, let alone a Muggle-born."

"Sirius," Lily warned, "don't start this…"

"He's right, Evans." Potter narrowed his eyes in concern. "I don't trust Snape further than the length of his nose."

Peter ogled Snape. "Oh, I don't know, Prongs, it's fairly large."

"Peter," Lupin said, warningly.

Pettigrew, however, paid Lupin no mind. He sniggered and added, "You could fit a lot of trust up those nostrils."

Enough was enough. With an indignant grunt, Snape withdrew his wand and pointed it at Pettigrew.

"_Sectum_—" he began to hiss, but Lily grabbed his arm. The shock of her contact distracted him momentarily, and he looked down at her, eyes blazing.

"Don't do it," she pleaded. Her fingers squeezed his arm. "Not now, please."

Snape's muscles were shaking with fury, but he bit his tongue and stared at the Gryffindor boys in a way that would put Medusa to shame.

"You touch him now, Lily?" Sirius asked, looking revolted. "Merlin." Lily quickly released her grip on Severus's arm, but she didn't look any less defiant.

Potter was staring at Severus and Lily with a peculiar look on his face. "You must see that you can't trust him, Lily," he said, gesturing to Snape with a hand. "Who knows what he was about to do."

"You provoked him," retorted Lily. She looked at Lupin for confirmation. "Remus, you know they did."

"Ah, well," Remus said, looking down at his shoes, "they did, but…"

"But you figure it's all fine as long as none of your friends gets hurt," Snape finished flatly. "Well, you can thank Evans for asking for Peter's mercy, but next time," he glared down at Pettigrew with all of the menace he could muster, "I hope he isn't so fortunate."

Pettigrew blanched, and Remus looked torn between anger and embarrassment.

"Let's go meet Slughorn, Snape," Lily said, tearing her eyes away from the Gryffindor boys. "He'll wonder where we've gotten to." With a loud sigh, she continued down the corridor towards the staircase.

Severus paused, not wanting to turn his back on Potter, Black, and even Pettigrew. Though they boasted of their gallant conduct, he wouldn't put any of them—Pettigrew in particular—past shooting a hex at his back. Lupin, however, looked up and nodded, as if he was reassuring Snape that he wouldn't get cursed from behind. Severus gave him a dark look before reluctantly following Lily, wishing he had been the one to leave the situation first. It felt like he was trailing after her like a lost pup.

"Evans." Potter called after them, "Lily, come on." There was a pause, and then, "You can't really trust him."

Lily, whose back was still turned to the lot of them, answered loudly, "It doesn't matter, Potter. I can't trust you, either."

They descended the stairs in silence, brushing past some of the younger students as they went. Lily finally paused long enough for Severus to catch up on the ground floor. He was sulking because she'd interfered, yet again. He felt like he had to say something.

"They're right, you know," he finally announced. He didn't bother to look at her and see her reaction. "It isn't safe for you to wander around in the dungeons alone."

Lily blew out a long breath of air that sent strands of her hair flying. "That may be, but I'm not going to wander around with friends flanking me like guards every minute of the day, either."

"No," he admitted, risking a furtive glance in her direction, "that won't do you any favours."

Lily nodded. "If I can't protect myself, I'm not going to be able to protect anyone else."

"Mm," he replied, fingering his wand thoughtfully. "You certainly try to protect everyone else in spite of everything."

"Well, I'm not sure what curse you were going to use, but it didn't look like it was going to be nice."

"It wasn't."

"I thought so, yes." She readjusted her bag on her shoulder. "You had that look about you."

"That look?"

"Mmhm," she replied. "It's the same look I get when Petunia is acting like an old cow."

He raised his eyebrows. "Your sister?"

"My sister," she affirmed. "Sometimes I feel like hexing her and making all of her hair fall out."

"You're familiar with balding spells?" he asked in astonishment. He hadn't expected Lily to be an expert on hexes.

To his further surprise, she burst out laughing. "God, no," she replied. "Is there really one? I just made it up off the top of my head." She covered her face and shook her head. "I don't know why these things surprise me anymore."

He nodded seriously, though he was slightly amused. "I could write the incantation down for you."

"Are you serious?" she asked, blinking at him.

"No," he admitted, "unless you really want it." And he seriously doubted Evans would be interested in turning someone bald. He tucked his hair behind his ears, feeling a bit more relaxed. "Women come up with some of the nastiest curses there are, you know."

"No, I didn't." She sounded interested.

"They definitely have a knack for the curses that drastically affect your appearance, anyway." His mind catalogued some of the spells he'd researched, and the strange pattern he'd noticed. "They have a knack for getting even in ways that are emotionally scarring rather than simply violent."

"Oh," Lily murmured. "You speak of that like it's admirable or something."

"It is, in a way," Severus replied. The spells were always most impressive.

Her cheek dimpled. "Is that what you look for in a woman, then? Cursing skills?"

That wasn't what he'd meant to imply at all, and the thought of Lily trying to figure out what attracted him to women made him flush. He did not like being put on the spot, even if she was taking the mickey out of him. "Why is it you'd assume I'd look for that in a woman?" he replied resentfully.

They were approaching Slughorn's door now, and he paused, unwilling to meet her eye.

"Oh," she replied lamely, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—" but whatever she was going to say was interrupted by Slughorn's booming voice.

"Severus! Miss Evans!" Professor Slughorn's rotund figure blocked the doorway as he greeted them with a broad grin. "Professor Kennecott passed along my message, I see. Lovely, lovely." Waddling out of the doorway, he signalled for them to follow and have a seat on his plush sofa. Severus and Lily sat down stiffly, and Severus was suddenly keenly aware of the distance that separated them.

"I wanted to speak to you about an idea that came to me last night," the professor said. "Because of your success in brewing the Draught of Living Death, I thought it might be interesting to see how you might work together."

Severus and Lily exchanged apprehensive looks, and neither responded. Severus didn't like the idea of having a partner, especially when he could do well enough on his own. What troubled him more was the fact that his partner would be Evans, partly because she was a Gryffindor, partly because of the company she kept, and mostly because he was dreading the reactions of the other Slytherins. He and Evans had an interesting history thus far, and most people didn't even know the half of it. He didn't want to take any more risks, either.

"There is a particular potion I'd like you to undertake," Slughorn continued. "Veritaserum. I trust you both have heard of it?"

Snape nodded.

Lily cleared her throat. "I have, sir, but isn't it very complicated?"

It was complicated, and needed to brew for a complete lunar cycle before it was ready. It took Severus a moment, but he realized that that was why Slughorn had asked them to his office today. There had been a full moon the night before, and if the brewing started soon, the Veritaserum would be ready on the night of the next full moon.

Veritaserum was an invaluable potion. However, if Slughorn expected them to work together, it meant spending a lot of time in each other's company. Severus didn't know how he felt about that.

Slughorn's bushy eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Why Lily," he replied, "I'm surprised you doubt your skills. I would never have asked you here had I not possessed complete faith in your abilities." His gaze flickered to Severus. "And you too, of course, Severus."

"I'd like to try it, sir." Severus finally decided. Veritaserum was extremely fascinating. One tiny drop of the potion, and a person would spill his or her entire life's secrets. The potential for extracting all sorts of information was infinite. He'd be a fool to pass this kind of opportunity up.

"Lily?" Slughorn prompted.

"Yes, sir," Lily said after a moment, and Severus twitched. Lily appeared not to notice. "When are we supposed to begin?" she asked.

"I've actually done the first few steps," Slughorn answered. "However, ingredients must be continually added as the moon goes through its phases. I will supply you with what you need during next class period." He fingered one end of his moustache thoughtfully. "There's probably no need to remind you, but taking on this project means a lot of brewing in the evenings. I hope neither of you has a problem with that."

"Oh, no," Lily replied with a sigh, "I'm only taking N.E.W.T. level classes. I have loads of time. It shouldn't be a problem at all."

Slughorn chuckled at her thinly veiled sarcasm. "As I said before, Lily, I have much faith in your capabilities."

"You haven't seen me when I'm drowsy," she joked. Snape shook his head at her cheek. Slughorn certainly adored her; in fact, he seemed endlessly amused by her. It was odd, especially since he was the head of Slytherin house and she was a Muggle-born Gryffindor.

"Lily, Lily," Slughorn sighed, pushing himself up onto his feet. "I'd love for you to stay and chat, but I have a class full of first years to attend to." He raised his arms and waved them out the door. "I'll see you in class soon, Severus. Lily, do stop by if you're on patrol, will you?"

"Of course, Professor."

They were practically swept out the door and bumped aside as Slughorn hurried to meet his first year class. Standing in his wake, Severus and Lily watched his round figure disappear and then turned to look at each other.

"Well," Lily said with a shake of her head, "that was interesting."

"Indeed." Severus turned in the direction of the Common Room. He felt an odd sensation, like impending doom. "I should probably get going."

"Me too," she said, surveying the corridor. He nearly asked her why the Gryffindor boys were so worried about her being alone in the dungeons, but in the end, decided to say nothing. It wasn't any of his business, and he didn't want to appear concerned. She had said that she needed to be able to protect herself, anyway.

"I'll see you later, then," he said slowly.

"Bye, Severus," she said with a hint of a smile. She turned and started walking quickly in the opposite direction. Her behaviour struck him as tentative--intimidated, even--though he didn't know why. Lupin had mentioned something about her encountering some trouble, but if that were the case, and a Slytherin had been involved, Severus hadn't heard a word of it. Of course, that seemed typical, lately.

Something made him pause to watch her, until she reached the staircase leading to the Entrance Hall. When she was halfway up, he called out to her.

"Evans!"

She turned around. "I have a first name, you know."

He shrugged, but decided to oblige her. The sensation of her name flicking off of his tongue made him uncomfortable, but he managed. "Lily, then."

"Yes?" She cocked her head expectantly.

"I'll get you that spell."

Even from this distance he could see the white gleam of her teeth as she broke into a grin. "I look forward to it," she replied, skipping up the last few steps and disappearing into the Entrance Hall.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you to all my lovely reviewers--I really love reading what you think of this story, and eventually I will get around to responding to each and every one of you. I truly appreciate the time you take just to drop a simple note--it makes my day. And, as has been the usual here lately, I apologize for the delay between chapters. I have a terrible habit of overtaxing myself. Thank you, thank you, for your patience. 


	9. Ever Swiftly Moving

--Previous Disclaimers Apply

**Ever Swiftly Moving  
**

It was six o'clock in the morning, and Severus could not fall back asleep. He'd spent the last fifteen minutes staring up at the ceiling of his four-post bed, attempting to clear his mind so that it would be easier for him to drift back into slumber. Unfortunately, it wasn't working. Grunting with discontent, he rolled onto his side, threw back the covers, and poked his head out from between the velvety curtains.

It looked as though everyone else was still asleep; the curtains around the other beds were still drawn, and the candelabra on the walls were out. Taking solace in the fact that he might be able to enjoy some quiet time in the Common Room, Severus decided to get up. He crawled out of bed quietly and went directly to his trunk, grabbing his robes and thrusting his free arm through the sleeve. He was halfway dressed when he heard something shuffling behind him.

There was a figure emerging from Rosier's bed curtains, but it wasn't Rosier. Severus blinked at it in groggy astonishment.

Florence, wearing nothing but Rosier's Quidditch jersey, had obviously spent the night in the boys' dormitory. She was unaware of Severus's presence, gasping audibly as her bare feet hit the floor. Her hair was a mass of wild, unmanageable curls, and Severus almost felt embarrassed about staring at the rather indecent amount of leg she was showing. She rubbed her knuckles in her eyes and tottered on the icy floor.

He decided to edge out of sight when Florence opened her eyes and blinked at her surroundings blearily. Too distracted by the situation to pay attention to where he was going, he crashed into his trunk and sent it scraping across the floor. Hissing air between his teeth, he cursed silently and winced, barely daring to steal a glance at Florence.

She was gaping at him with her hands clapped firmly over her mouth.

He supposed she was silencing what would have been a very loud scream. "I assure you that you're no less frightening at this hour," he said hoarsely, and cinched his robes more tightly about him.

Florence's hands slid down from her mouth until her fingers were steepled under her chin. "Snape," she exclaimed breathily. "Sweet Circe, I wasn't expecting to see anyone." The fact that she was wearing next to nothing appeared to have suddenly dawned on her, because she shrank back towards Rosier's bed, tugging at the bottom of the jersey in a feeble attempt to cover her legs. "I…er…" she blundered, "that is, we…"

Severus shook his head. "I don't want to know." He stared at a spot on the floor between them, not daring to watch her struggle to keep herself decent.

"I should go," she whispered, poking her head back through Rosier's curtains and snatching her belongings hastily. She pulled them tightly to her chest, but the way she'd positioned everything was clumsy, and a shoe tumbled onto the ground. Severus stared down at it, and there was an awkward pause.

"Would you mind?" Florence whispered, just as Severus murmured, "I'll get it." It was plain to see that Florence did not want to bend over and grab her shoe; Severus would get a full view of her knickers. Though Severus wouldn't have minded seeing a girl's knickers, it _was_ Florence. He picked up her shoe and balanced it on top of everything else. Florence gave him a grateful, if not slightly embarrassed, smile before securing it in place with her chin. "Thank you," she mouthed silently, turning to leave.

Severus grunted, returning to his trunk to pick up his Advanced Potions Book. When he turned around, she was gone.

He didn't see her for the rest of the morning, either. In fact, it had been a good idea to work in the common room so early; he'd managed to go two full hours without a single interruption. In that time span, he was able to conjugate the Latin for two new spells. At least, he hoped he'd done it correctly. He was planning on testing them out later.

"Severus?" a voice piped up from behind him.

Severs shut his book and glanced over his shoulder. Regulus, already dressed smartly in his school robes, flashed him a quick smile. "'Lo," Regulus greeted brightly. "Have you been up long?"

"Not long," Severus replied, forcing images of Florence out of his mind. He was not looking forward to encountering her in Potions later.

"Have you gone for breakfast yet?" asked Regulus, raising his brows hopefully.

Severus paused. "No," he answered. His stomach was rumbling hungrily. "Let me gather my things, and I'll meet you in the Great Hall." He eased himself off of the couch and started towards the dormitories.

"Great," Regulus called after him, "I'll save you a seat."

Severus wasn't surprised when he walked in on Rosier humming contentedly. Severus paused in the doorway, leaning a bony shoulder against the frame and watching Rosier in mild amusement. Evan had an unmistakeable smirk on his face as he rummaged through his trunk.

"Good night?" Severus asked.

Rosier spun around brusquely, but once he realized it was Snape talking, his face broke into a large grin. "Excellent night," he affirmed.

"I'm sure," replied Severus, walking into the room and moving to grab his shoulder bag.

Rosier shrugged on his robes and adjusted the collar. "I slept well, is all."

Severus pressed his lips together. "Please," he said flatly, "spare me the details."

"Of course," Rosier replied with a chuckle. "Did you see Flo this morning, then?" He seemed completely unruffled by the thought, and waggled his eyebrows. "At least I can be sure that you won't be picturing her with her arse in the air every time I mention her name."

Severus choked, falling into a spasm of coughing. If he _ever_ pictured that, he'd Obliviate himself.

"Lestrange would, you know," Rosier continued. "He's always perving over the girls here."

"Narcissa, you mean?" Severus croaked out, catching his breath.

Rosier grabbed his books and tucked them under an arm. "Well, yes," he mused thoughtfully. "But that's almost expected."

"Isn't she your cousin?"

Rosier snorted loudly. "As if that's ever stopped anyone."

Severus was privately disgusted by this, and nearly—_nearly_—felt thankful that he was a Half-blood. "It would stop me."

"Really?" Rosier appeared entirely unconvinced. "So if you could have a go with Narcissa you'd refuse?"

"I wasn't talking about that," Severus answered sharply.

"So you would have a go with her?" Rosier teased.

"That's not what I said!" Severus exclaimed irritably.

Rosier shrugged. "You could use a good shag," he announced. Severus glared at him. "What?" he continued. "Don't bother denying it. It'd loosen you up a bit, I'd wager. In fact, I think I probably have wagered on it."

Severus rubbed at his forehead with his free hand. Rosier was in one of his moods, and it would only get worse as time progressed. "I'm going to breakfast."

"I'll be down in a bit," answered Rosier. "I promised Flo I'd meet her." He snorted and combed his fingers through his hair. "You know. Obligatory conversation."

"You're so thoughtful," Severus replied sardonically. "She's a lucky girl."

Rosier waved his wand at his bed curtains, and they shut with a snap. "If she didn't know that before, she does now."

Severus made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and excused himself hastily before he lost his appetite completely.

* * *

"Did you get tied up?" Regulus asked, passing over a plate of steaming sausages. 

"You don't even want to know," Snape answered, forking a plump sausage and adding it to his plate.

Regulus lifted his eyebrows and took a bite of toast, smiling to himself. The Slytherin table was slowly filling up. A group of sleepy, yawning girls sat a little further down the table. To Severus's surprise, Barty Crouch joined them, plopping down on the bench and sneaking Severus a sage smile.

Severus lifted an eyebrow.

Regulus subtly indicated Barty with his fork. "He's trying to get friendly with the dark-haired one. I forget her name. Davis, maybe," he said. "He teaches them all swear words in different languages, so they think he's quite a novelty."

"Does he?"

"Yeah," Regulus said, taking a sip of juice. He swallowed and then added, "You know how his father knows hundreds of languages? Well, Barty doesn't have a bad ear for them himself, though he usually only bothers with the dirty words."

Shaking his head, Severus turned back to his plate. "How are your classes going?"

"All right," Regulus said, pulling a face. "We've got loads of work already. I've got a humongous translation assignment in Ancient Runes."

"It only gets worse," Severus mused cynically.

"Wonderful," Regulus sighed. "And how are your classes going? Slughorn was raving about you the other day."

"Oh?"

Nodding, Regulus wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. "T'wasn't surprising, of course."

Severus felt strangely humbled, and, on impulse, decided to share the news of Slughorn's newest assignment with Regulus. "I'm brewing Veritaserum for him."

Regulus's blue eyes widened. "You don't say?" he said in wonder. "Bloody hell, that's top-notch stuff, right there."

"It is," Severus agreed. "Unfortunately, he hasn't mentioned whether or not we will be able to test our final product." He'd wanted to approach the subject with the Professor, but knew that his timing would mean everything. He didn't want Professor Slughorn to suspect that he was up to anything.

"Don't tell him," suggested Regulus. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him. I doubt he'll care too much, anyway." He grinned slyly. "As long as you don't get in trouble."

Severus smiled tightly. "Yes," he agreed, "I suppose you're right." He took another bite of sausage and stole a glance at Regulus, who was making faces at Barty. The boy was a little immature and naïve, but the more Severus talked to him, the more he redeemed himself for being a direct relative of Sirius Black.

* * *

It turned out that Severus wasn't even to attend class in the Potions room anymore. When he arrived, Slughorn directed him into an adjacent room. 

"I thought it would be best for you two to work undisturbed," Slughorn said. "You never know when someone is going to blow something up and make a large mess." He large forehead wrinkled as he fiddled with the end of his moustache. "You also will be able to access it at night. Ms. Evans is already there; I've given her the necessary instructions. She'll relay the information, of course."

'I hope so,' Severus thought jadedly. He was a more than a little put out that he'd missed the instructions, but gave Slughorn with a brief nod. "Thank you, sir," he said, turning away from Slughorn's desk.

"Best of luck!" Slughorn replied cheerfully. "I'll be over in a little while to check up on things."

Severus nodded, giving the classroom a fleeting look as he made the way to the door. He caught Lestrange's eye and bobbed his head in acknowledgement.

"Snape!" Lestrange waved him over. "Where are you going?"

"Special assignment," Severus replied quietly. He noticed Florence, who'd ducked down behind Lestrange. She bowed her head and began to scribble across a piece of parchment lying on the table. Severus had the feeling she was trying to go unnoticed. That was fine with him.

"Oh yeah?" Lestrange frowned. "What do you get to do?"

"Work with Evans on an excruciatingly boring potion," he said cautiously.

"Evans?" Lestrange repeated, looking incredulous. "Because you both did so well with the Draught of Living Death?"

"That seems likely."

Lestrange hooked his index finger into the collar of his robes and pulled the material away from his neck, looking dismayed. "Bollocks." His dark eyes glistened in the dim light of the room. "S'pose Professor Slughorn thinks you're really special then, eh?" Lestrange asked. "Sticking you in a room with his favourite Mudblood." The corner of his eye twitched. "Bet you can write home to your mum and dad about that one."

"I'm spending every class period alone with a Mudblood for an entire lunar cycle," Severus replied testily. "I hardly think that's anything to be jealous of."

"I'm not jealous!" snapped Lestrange.

"Right," Severus muttered. "I'd hope not."

"Well." Lestrange's face softened. He was obviously trying not to seem jealous. "If she acts like a bitch, you can curse her and no one will know."

Severus nodded curtly. "I'll keep that in mind." He glanced over his shoulder at Slughorn, who was surveying him curiously. "I've got to go."

"Have fun," Lestrange replied, and a nasty little smile had returned to his face.

Severus grunted and left the Potions room. The door to the classroom across the hall was shut, so he grabbed the doorknob and tentatively pushed it open.

Lily was sitting down in a chair, pouring over a leather-bound book. She was dressed in her robes and a protective apron, and her long hair was pulled up into a makeshift bun, although a few rogue strands framed her face. She looked up at the sound of the door creaking open. "Hi."

"Hi." He glanced around uncomfortably. There was a large cauldron with bubbling contents on one end of the long oak tale in the centre of the room. Aside from that, the furnishings included a tall shelf full of dusty, bottled ingredients, four rickety chairs, and a large basin sink. He placed his bag in a nearby chair and approached the table to inspect the brewing Veritaserum. It was pea-green in colour, and looked to be the consistency of heavy cream.

"It's sort of strange being separated from the rest of the class, isn't it?" Evans asked, joining him. She frowned as she scrutinized the brew.

"It is," he agreed, watching the surface of the potion bubble. "But there will be less distractions."

She nodded. "Professor Slughorn completed the first three steps," she told him, gesturing to the book in her hands. "When the potion starts to give off a yellow vapour, we need to add thirteen quartered henbane seeds."

"And until then?" he asked.

"I think we should go over the lunar calendar and make some sort of schedule," she replied. "We can arrange times to meet here." She quirked her mouth to the side in uncertainty. "Unless you just want to take turns."

"No," he said quickly. No matter how good of a Potions student Evans was, Severus had no intention of letting anything happen to the potion that he couldn't personally oversee, or better yet, do on his own.

"I thought you might say that," she said with a smile. She moved over to an empty spot on the table and opened the book, placing it on the table. She'd marked the page with her quill and a scrap piece of parchment. "We have to transfer the Potion into a silver cauldron at midnight when the waxing crescent moon is at twenty-five percent. Which," she picked up the quill and tapped it against her chin thoughtfully, "happens to be next Saturday." She blinked up at him. "Are you free?"

He furrowed his brows. "Yes. Did you think I'd have something else planned?"

She snorted softly, carefully writing out the time and date of their next get-together. "Oh, I don't know," she murmured absently. "Perhaps you had some pressing business. Midnight duels, something like that."

"Are you trying to be insulting?"

Lily's mouth twitched. "No." She folded the piece of paper and held it out for him. He accepted it, somewhat grudgingly. "But don't act like you've never had a midnight duel."

Severus lifted an eyebrow and gave her a look. He had, in fact, been involved in two midnight duels during his time at Hogwarts. One was against James Potter, during his second year at Hogwarts. Their mutual dislike for each other was widely known, and one day during an exchange of curses, James had challenged Severus to meet him in a large storage room at midnight. The entire affair was more of a spectacle than anything, and neither of them had come out of it any better than the other. James refused to let Sirius help, abiding by the ancient duelling regulations. The second duel happened during his third year, against a seventh year Slytherin named Alecto, who was Julius Carrow's cousin. It was common practice for the older Slytherins to duel the younger students in order to estimate their worth. Unlike Potter, Alecto did not bother with recognizing duelling regulations. His troll of a sister, Amycus, joined him, and Severus ended up spending two nights in the hospital wing. Amycus and Alecto, however, spent three nights in the infirmary, both suffering from strange maladies that Madam Pince had difficulty diagnosing.

If anything, that particular duel ended up sparking much more interest in Severus's capabilities, and the other Slytherins finally began to invite him to their various activities.

Lily was looking at him expectantly, and he shook his thoughts away. "I haven't been a participant in a proper duel for some time now."

"Since second year?" Lily guessed. "Against Potter?"

Severus frowned. "How did you know about that?"

"I was there."

He didn't remember that, and must have looked dumbfounded, because Lily laughed at him. "I was," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I think nearly every Gryffindor and Slytherin second year was there. It's a wonder Filch didn't catch us all and hang us up by our thumbs."

"Really." He had no idea what to say, and stared blankly at the back of her head as she turned away.

"Yes, really," Lily said somewhat roughly. She'd walked over to the bookshelves and was on the tips of her toes, stretching for a jar of what Severus assumed to be henbane seeds.

"You are a witch, you know," he said rather pointedly. "Summon it down."

She looked over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. "Possessing magical abilities is not an excuse for laziness."

"Did Professor McGonagall tell you that?" Snape wondered.

Lily stretched up a little further and wrapped her fingers around the jar, pulling it down to her chest. "Yes," she breathed, "and I think she's got a point."

"Of course you do," he muttered. "Here." Reaching out his hand, he gestured to the jar. "I'll begin cutting the seeds."

Lily placed the jar in his hands and moved to the cauldron. She checked the colouring and then turned to watch him as he diced the seeds into perfect quarters.

"I didn't mean to offend you," she said after a moment. "About the duelling."

He glanced up at her for a moment. "I'm not offended," he said, dismissing her apology and turning back to quartering the fourth seed.

"I tried duelling once, after that," he heard her say. Surprised by her revelation, he stopped mid-slice and turned to her in curiosity.

"You did?" Perhaps he'd heard her wrong.

"Mmhm," she replied. "With Patrice." She crinkled her nose at the memory.

"Aren't you friends?" Severus asked.

Her cheek dimpled as she grinned. "Yes, we've been friends since first year."

"But you duelled?" he inquired dubiously.

"It wasn't malicious," she replied. "After we saw your duel with Potter, we decided to try it ourselves."

"With what?" he couldn't help but scoff. "Cheering charms, was it?"

"Ha ha," she said flatly. "I'll have you know that we actually used jinxes. Patrice knows a nasty tongue-twisting curse." Severus wasn't exactly impressed with tongue-twisting curses, and Lily must have sensed that, because she flushed brightly.

"Fascinating," he said, smirking to himself.

"You don't have to be so condescending, you know," she replied pointedly. "I'm not trying to impress you; I'm simply telling a story."

He blinked at her in bemusement before turning back to his seeds. Although he found Lily's admission amusing in a pathetic sort of way, he didn't intentionally want to make her feel foolish. He decided to appease her, if only minimally. "It's good to practice, I suppose."

"S'all right," she said, "You haven't hurt my feelings. I prepared myself for this."

He jerked his head up sharply, trying to see if she was simply teasing. Unfortunately, she wasn't looking at him so he couldn't be sure. Instead, she was peering down over the edge of the cauldron. "Look!" she said, "It's started to emit the vapour." Her eyes seemed to shine an even brighter green when she was excited, he noticed.

His wonderment at whether or not she'd just affronted him quickly vanished. "I've finished the seeds." He placed his knife on the table.

"Shall we add them, then?"

Severus nodded, grabbing the cutting board and bringing it over to the cauldron. "Get the tweezers," he ordered.

If Lily was irritated by his orders, she didn't show it, and obediently grabbed a pair of needle-tipped tweezers. He held out the cutting board, and she plucked the quartered seeds off of it one by one, adding the specified amount.

To their amazement, the vapour that was pouring out of the cauldron suddenly moved in a counter-clockwise circle and turned from yellow to white. The room slowly filled with an antiseptic type smell. The potion turned from a pea-green colour to an ivory, shimmering liquid.

"The directions said it would do that," said Lily approvingly, glancing down at a small timepiece on her wrist. "We have to wait thirty minutes and then stir it counter-clockwise seven times."

"It isn't exactly hard, is it?" Severus replied. Honestly, the entire process had been rather boring. If he had the proper materials, he could do it on his own.

"Perhaps it seems that way now," Lily said, "but transferring it is going to be terribly difficult."

Severus considered this, but didn't say anything one way or the other. He wouldn't judge the complexity of the potion until after he'd mastered it. He watched the potion critically for several minutes before turning back to retrieve his Advanced Potions book out of his shoulder bag. If he had to sit there for thirty minutes, he figured he'd make use of the time. Settling into one of the sturdier looking chairs, he opened his book to examine his Latin conjugations.

Lily also sat down, busying herself with writing something on a roll of parchment. Every so often she would pause to reread what she had written. It didn't look like it was any sort of schoolwork, so Severus assumed she was writing a letter.

Twenty minutes went by in silence, and after scratching down the word "Muffliato" in an available blank area on the page, Severus felt a pair of eyes on him. His gaze flickered over to where Lily was sitting.

She'd been watching him, and looked away upon meeting his gaze, wincing in embarrassment. "Sorry," she apologized quietly. "You looked so intense. I was wondering what you were writing."

He shook his head dismissively. "I'm just working on a few spells."

She arched her brows inquiringly. "Without wand movement?"

He exhaled out of his nose. "You misunderstood what I said. I'm developing spells."

Lily scooted forward in her chair, placing her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. "You develop spells?"

Severus pressed his lips together, uncertain as to how much information he should share. "I experiment."

"You do this a lot?" It wasn't so much a question as a statement.

"Yes."

"Do they work?" she asked inquisitively.

For whatever reason, he decided to give her an example. He'd never outwardly taken credit for a spell before. "Perhaps you remember the popularity of swinging someone upside down in the air?" he said, lowering his voice cautiously.

Lily's jaw dropped. "You invented a nonverbal spell?" Her facial expression changed from a look of awe to a look of near-reverence. "That's complicated work, and really impressive."

Severus looked down at his book, unsure of what to say. Surely Lily would mention the irony in his own spell being used against him. In fact, he was already preparing a suitable retort when she asked, "What are you working on now?"

He found it hard to believe that she didn't bring up the quirk of fate involving his own spell. Then again, she did know first hand how sensitive he was about the incident. His defensive stance softened a little. "A spell for Professor Kennicot's assignment. If my deductions are correct, it should let you pass along information without being heard by others in the surrounding area."

"Wow." Lily looked impressed. "And you do this a lot?" she asked. "Make spells, I mean."

"It's a hobby," he deadpanned.

"And to think, most students assume you spend your free time perfecting Unforgivable curses," she teased.

Severus grew uncomfortably silent. Luckily, Lily didn't have time to notice the awkward lull in conversation, as Professor Slughorn entered the room, sniffing loudly. His moustache jiggled under his nose.

"Wonderful," he said, rubbing his hands together as he approached the simmering cauldron. "I smell success, oh yes, indeed."

Lily got up, placing her belongings on her chair. The hem of her robes nearly dusted the floor as she trailed behind Professor Slughorn, and she glanced over her shoulder and shook her head, grinning at Severus.

Severus gave her a small smile, understanding exactly what she meant.

* * *

The Common Room was bustling with excitement. A small horde of third years was crowded around the message board, chattering excitedly and pointing at a scrap of parchment. 

It meant one thing, Severus noted dryly; a Hogsmeade weekend was quickly approaching.

Not feeling particularly up to elbowing his way through the throng of students, he adjusted his bag's strap and decided to drop his belongings off in his trunk before Herbology. He hadn't gotten far when a petite figure came out of the corridor leading to the girl's dormitory and nearly collided with him.

"Oh, dear. I'm sorry." Narcissa put up her palms and smiled. "I didn't see you there."

"It's fine," Severus replied. "The younger students are in a frenzy."

Narcissa pursed her lips, giving the younger students a sidelong glance. "Yes," she agreed with a sigh. "They've put up the Hogsmeade weekend notice. It's next Saturday."

"I figured that was it." He folded his arms across his chest uneasily, suddenly all to aware of Narcissa's pretty smile, the way her hair shined like in the eerie glow of the lake water, and the way he couldn't bring himself to look directly into her eyes. Good God, he was turning into Lestrange. It was ridiculous.

"Are you going?" she asked. "Bellatrix sent an owl that she and Rodolphus would be at the Three Broomsticks."

"Will they?"

She nodded. "Yes, they're supposed to be there around one o'clock, in one of the private rooms in the back. I can't even begin to explain how relieved I am that she didn't want to meet in the Hog's Head--you know Bella. That place is filthy."

Severus agreed, though he did find the pub interesting. The Hog's Head had a reputation for drawing an unusual, Machiavellian-type crowd. "Are there others going to be there?" he asked slowly, thinking of Bellatrix and Rodolphus's engagement party.

"I don't think so," replied Narcissa. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't stop by and say hello." She absently fingered a lock of hair, tilting her head up and giving him an appealing look. "Of course, if you're running around with Rabastan, you'll probably bump into them, anyhow."

"It's a possibility." He swallowed, suddenly feeling heat rushing up from his collar.

Her lips curled up into a coy smile. "Oh, good," she said, "I was worried you might start slipping away from our social circle."

Severus lifted an eyebrow, wondering how to respond. Fortunately, he didn't have to, because she tittered softly. "Don't look like that. It's quite apparent that you don't like to be a part of a crowd." Her words reminded him of Lucius's comment at the engagement party; he might have been a bit offended had she not taken that moment to lay her hand on his forearm, continuing, "But that's the lovely thing about being part of our group, Severus. Everyone understands the need for independence, but we all have services to offer when a situation arises."

Her blue eyes shimmered under her long, dark lashes. Severus looked into them for a moment, trying to discern the meaning behind her words, but his attempt was cut short when her gaze flickered to something beyond him. She broke out into a broad smile. "Oh!" she called out, "Hope!" She glanced back up at Severus and squeezed his arm. "Excuse me," she said hastily, "but I've been waiting to speak with Hope all day." She lifted her hand and manoeuvred around him gracefully, stepping aside and adding, "I hope we'll see you at the Three Broomsticks!" before rushing away and linking arms with Hope.

"I'll see you around," he replied gruffly. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't sure if she even heard him. She and Hope were chattering excitedly about something. It didn't matter, anyway, he decided. There was something about Narcissa that put him on edge.

"Have a nice chat?" someone asked from beside him.

Severus spun around and found himself face to face with Rabastan. "It wasn't much of a chat," he greeted blandly. "She was telling me about Hogsmeade."

"Ah," Rabastan said. "Yeah, it's about time. I could use a trip to Zonko's." Severus would never have guessed it for all of Rabastan's gruffness and belligerence, but Rabastan had the largest sweet tooth of anyone he'd ever met. It was a wonder he still had all of his teeth.

"I wouldn't mind stopping at the Apothecary there," Severus replied. "I'm running low on a few things."

"Oh?" Rabastan replied. "And how did your potion go with Evans, then?"

"The potion is fine," Severus replied. "The rest of it was rather dull. I worked on Professor Kennicot's assignment." Rabastan nodded, and Severus didn't think he was on the warpath any longer, so he asked, "How did you fair in Potions?"

Rabastan placed the palm of his hand on the crown of his head and massaged it slowly. "Ugh," he grunted. "No one managed to make the confusing concoction, and Professor Slughorn decided to wind us up about how someone must have slipped us some in our juice this morning."

Severus frowned. Often, Professor Slughorn's attempts at humour ended up being riddled with unintentional disdain, so he sympathized with Lestrange, barely. "At least no one managed it."

"Potter came close," replied Rabastan. "Professor Slughorn awarded him ten house points for his attempt." He curled his lip in contempt. "_I _think it's because Evans wasn't there and he couldn't moon over her for the entire class period."

Severus snorted. "I doubt you're far off the mark."

Rabastan nodded, then shook his head quickly. "Oh," he said, "I forgot to tell you, an owl arrived for you today, mangy thing. Julius accepted the letter and left it on your trunk."

That was unexpected news, and Severus hastily excused himself from Rabastan and made his way to the sixth-year dormitory. No one else was present, so he whisked over to his trunk, threw off his bag, and snatched up the letter. He waved his wand at his bed curtains and they rushed open with a snap, leaving him plenty of room to sit down on the side of his bed. The mattress groaned quietly beneath him.

The letter was, oddly enough, from his mother. Another quick spell had the envelope unsealed, and he pulled out a piece of white, plain stationary, recognizing his mother's neat handwriting.

_Severus_, he read.

_I haven't heard from you since you left for Hogwarts, and I assume this means you're doing well. Your father is fine, and I'm sure you will hardly be surprised to hear that little has changed since you left. _

_The truth is, I would not hasten to write you were it not for the fact that I am travelling to London next week. I have some business to take care of--business that is long overdue--and I decided I would make a quick trip to Diagon Alley as long as I am there. It has been ages since I've visited, as I'm sure you realize. I thought I would write to see if you needed anything. Do reply as soon as possible if this is the case. Even if this isn't the case, I wouldn't mind hearing how you're doing in school. _

Your father sends his regards. I hope you're taking care of yourself, Severus. I hope you've kept our last conversation in mind.

_All My Love. _

Severus reread the letter several times, trying to figure out exactly what it meant. Of course, he understood that his mother was expecting a small list of supplies that she could purchase for him, but there was something else in what went unsaid that nagged him. It was something in the nature of the business she was attending to. Her choice of words was very vague, and the way his mother mentioned it—so blasé in passing—was suspicious.

Still, he assumed that his mother _would_ tell him if it was an urgent matter, especially if it involved him. They were not the best communicators, surely, but they did have a mutual respect that surpassed normal family niceties and allowed them to establish trust in one another. The only exception to that was when his mother mentioned his father sending regards. Severus highly doubted that Tobias would do such a thing. However, he understood why his mother would write so.

He thought idly about Diagon Alley and items from its various shops that he might find useful. In the end, he decided to ask for a new pair of dragon-hide gloves and a set of quills, because Hogsmeade charged an arm and a leg for them, knowing that students were hard-pressed to find a closer store. He scrawled his request out in a short letter, letting his mother know that he didn't need anything else because he had a Hogsmeade trip in the near future. He wasn't sure what to say about his classes, and in the end simply told her that he was doing well and that Professor Slughorn had selected him to do a special project. He also mentioned seeing her at Christmas, which came out as a surprise, since he hadn't decided to return to Spinner's End until that moment. Oddly enough, he felt like he had to return in order to see her.

Scribbling his name across the bottom of the parchment, he folded it up and searched his trunk for a stray envelope. Once he found one, he sealed his letter inside and rustled through his trunk for his Herbology book. Tucking both items inside his shoulder bag, he started off for class, meaning to make a quick detour to the Owlry before heading out to the greenhouses.

Hopefully, the professor would busy them with mindless work and he'd have time to think.

* * *

Thank you to all my readers. I know it's a long time between updates, but I appreciate your patience. I hope you're pleased with this newest instalment. I hate the formatting on but oh well. 


	10. Hesitant Desire

**Hesitant Desire  
****Chapter 10**

**  
**

Severus never did hear back from his mother, though he'd really been too busy to give it much thought. School was requiring more of his time than it ever had before.

He'd ended up doing very well on Kennicot's assignment; she had been so impressed with his essay that she'd asked him to demonstrate his scenario for the class. He complied without argument, bringing a non-partisan student—Isaac Brewster, a Hufflepuff—up to the front of the class to help with the presentation. Severus didn't want anyone suspecting that his success was somehow related to a Slytherin ploy, and he didn't want a Gryffindor like Pettigrew or Black to lie and discredit him. He wasted no energy towards making his presentation overly dramatic; his presentation had been short and to the point. He simply performed his nonverbal spell, _Muffliato_, and spoke in low tones to Brewster while the rest of the class blinked at him in stupidity, unable to hear anything but a strange, buzzing, white noise.

It was quite a success, and even the Gryffindors had been impressed. Lupin, in particular, seemed interested in the mechanics of Severus's spell. Naturally, Severus didn't give away any information (learning from the last time one of his spells had been loosed upon the school), and basked in his short-lived superiority with smug silence. Lupin, whose essay had been equally praised by Kennicot, also demonstrated his work. He used the Disillusionment Charm--an admittedly difficult bit of wand work--as camouflage, and passed on the information enclosed in a piece of parchment that needed a special password before the message could be read.

It wasn't the Disillusionment Charm that Severus found so impressing, but the little manipulative used on the parchment. Severus had encountered magic like that before, but Lupin's performance made Severus feel a bit envious. The two students had a sort of unspoken rivalry between them—subtler than Severus's rivalry with Potter or Black. This was mostly because Severus couldn't stand that Lupin was such a pushover. Lupin's humble nature was nauseating.

Even now, as Severus headed to Professor Sprout's class to enquire about a recent test mark, he made the mental note to research spells on message concealment during his next visit to the library.

Professor Sprout's office was located between the kitchens and the Hufflepuff Common Room. She'd recently given the N.E.W.T. students a test on the differences between Flitterbloom and Devil's Snare, including a rather challenging practical. The students had to identify and label the parts of a dozen different plants. Severus, whose interest in plants was limited to their applicable uses in potion brewing, was worried he'd done poorly.

When Professor Sprout, a young, bubbly professor, mentioned that the students could stop by her office to confirm their marks, he decided to take her up on that offer.

He approached her door and rapped twice.

"Come in!" she called out.

He opened the door and stepped in softly. Professor Sprout was at her desk, listening to a broadcast on the Wizarding Wireless Network. It was the first time he'd seen her without a hat on, and the hair on top of her head was matted down, resembling a crater in her curly, brown hair. He stared at her for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Good morning, Professor Sprout."

She smiled at him, and her round cheeks grew even rounder, if it were at all possible. "Oh, hello, Severus. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Professor," he replied. "You mentioned that we could stop by for our test marks?"

"Yes, yes, of course," she replied with a smile. "You're the first one I've seen today." She rifled through some papers on her desk, thumbing through them quickly and pulling one aside. She smoothed it out with her earth-stained hands. "Ah, here we are."

He glanced down at the parchment, recognizing his small, cramped writing. At the top of the paper, in bright, bottle green was the letter "A". "Acceptable," he murmured.

"Yes," Professor Sprout acknowledged, "which leaves quite a bit of room for improvement, if I may say so." She pointed at one of the short essay questions, and Severus winced at the number of inky green comments written in the margins. "You might want to flesh something like this out a bit more next time. The areas where you can locate the plants are fine, but noting climate, dirt composition, and altitude is also useful for people planning to recreate the appropriate conditions for cultivation."

He nodded dully. He had been hoping that he would have slid by with an E, but supposed he would have to spend more time studying for Herbology in the future. "Thank you, Professor."

"On, it's nothing, Mr. Snape. Are you off to Hogsmeade?"

He nodded.

"That's nice," Professor Sprout said with a smile. "It's been a tick since I've been to the Three Broomsticks. I hope you have a nice time. Behave yourself."

"I will, Professor." He gave her a tight, forced smile before leaving, and once he'd exited her room he inhaled deeply and heaved a large sigh. Knowing he'd performed below his own expectations was disappointing.

Oddly enough, he found walking through the Hufflepuff corridor mildly comforting; the air was warm and smelled of spices and cooking meat. A lot of students liked to congregate in the corridors, and Severus suspected that the atmosphere had something to do with it. He inhaled deeply once more, trying to figure out what the elves were cooking for lunch.

He was so distracted in discerning pasties from potted pies that he almost didn't notice Rosier, who was standing in the corridor, leaning an arm up against the wall. In the limited amount of space between the wall and Rosier's body was a petite girl--a petite girl, Severus noted with mild interest, who _was not_ Florence.

The girl, a Hufflepuff with long, dirty-blonde hair, giggled at something Rosier said to her.

"What?" Severus overheard Rosier say in an amused voice. "You don't believe me?"

"I don't know," the girl said lightly. "Can I trust you?"

"Can you trust me?!" exclaimed Rosier wryly. He leaned down and whispered something into the girl's ear, lips grazing her earlobe.

She giggled and pushed him away. "Oh, Evan stop that, will you? It tickles."

Rosier straightened up and lowered his arm so that it was parallel with the floor and brushing against the crook of her neck. "Only because you asked so nicely."

Evan was certainly taking a risk by being so intimate in a public space. There were quite a few students who knew about Florence spending the night (and who knows how many other nights) in his bed not so long ago.

Severus didn't particularly care about Rosier's wanton behaviour, especially since it didn't affect him at all, so he dismissed it without much speculation. If Rosier ended up with his knob shrivelled up by some mad, resentful girl, it wouldn't be surprising. Walking by the flirtatious couple, he didn't bother to offer any form of greeting. Neither the girl nor Rosier even noticed him as he passed, so it hardly mattered, anyway.

When he reached the Common Room, Rabastan was waiting for him. Avery and Wilkes were there as well.

"Are you ready?" Rabastan said gruffly. He had forgone his Hogwarts robes for a set that was dark navy in colour and made of thick material to keep out the autumn chill. Wilkes had also decided against wearing his school robes, dressed in charcoal grey. The way the students at Hogwarts dressed on weekends was very telling of their backgrounds. Muggle-borns and Half-bloods often opted for slacks and shirts, while the Slytherin Purebloods would never be caught dead wearing Muggle clothing. Then there were some, like Avery and Snape, who simply stayed in their school robes.

"Is Filch in the Entrance Hall already?" Severus asked.

Wilkes nodded. "Saw 'im dragging his mangy bag for contraband up the corridor about five minutes ago."

"Ah," Snape replied with a nod.

"Let's go now before we get held up in the queue," Rabastan said.

The boys exited the Common Room together, soon joining the small throng of students gathered in the Entrance Hall. Filch was busy checking the students' names off of a long piece of parchment. An old, tattered bag was at his feet. The students knew it well; it was where Filch would put all of their purchases from Zonko's if they didn't bother to conceal them properly. Unfortunately for Filch, that was one of the first things third-year students learned to do.

"Gah," Rabastan groaned as he elbowed a few third years out of the way. "C'mon you idjits, move over." In a matter of moments (along with a few sharp elbows to various ribs), he and the others were standing in front of Filch.

"Rabastan Lestrange," he announced abruptly.

"All right, all right," muttered Filch. His beady eyes narrowed as he searched for Lestrange's name. "Go on, you. And don't even think about bringing back any dungbombs. I have a pair of thumbscrews with your name on it."

Lestrange turned around to give his friends a withering look before brushing past Filch.

Avery was next in the queue, and he stepped up to Filch, looking abrasive. "Merrick Avery." Filch ignored Avery's menacing stance and made another comment about smuggling in illegal contraband. Fulton was addressed in a similar manner. Of course, it was hardly a surprise, since Filch was about as cantankerous as old men come.

Severus was next. "Snape," Filch repeated with a hiss. "Going off to join the raucous?" he asked snidely, ticking off Severus's name with his quill. "See you don't get yourself into trouble, Mr. Snape. I'd hate to see you on your hands and knees scrubbing the floors." Filch lifted an eyebrow and gave a raspy laugh, showing his yellowed teeth.

Severus ignored Filch's laughter and walked out behind Wilkes, lips thinned tightly.

"Old Filchy has a soft spot for you, eh?" asked Wilkes with a sly grin.

"He has a warm heart," replied Severus derisively.

"If you have four legs and a set of whiskers," Fulton said.

"He does love that old, manky cat, doesn't he?" remarked Rabastan. He shoved his hands into his pockets and ambled along, staring out at the pathway ahead. "One time Rodolphus caught her and stuffed her into a pillowcase." He gave an amused, sidelong glance to his companions. "He suspended her from the ceiling. Filch was seething—and he actually fetched a ladder to rescue her. S'pose he didn't want to hurt her with magic."

The boys chuckled appreciatively. Severus imagined Mrs. Norris yowling in fear and Filch collapsing from heart palpitations.

"Come to think of it, I've never seen him use magic," mused Avery.

"I think I did once," Fulton said slowly. "I can't remember when it was, though." He shrugged a shoulder. "But how else is he going to keep a castle clean? I mean, you couldn't manage all of that without magic."

Lestrange let out a short hiss of air between his teeth. "That's what house-elves are for, isn't it?" Kicking a stone across the cobbled path, he turned to Fulton. "I always figured he was related to some old benefactor who donated a lot of money to the school. Scholarship funds or something. Headmaster Dippet was so grateful he had to keep Filch around, and now Dumbledore's stuck with him."

"He doesn't strike me as someone who hails from an old estate," mused Snape.

"That's likely because his relatives donated the estate. Or something."

"I've yet to find the Filch wing," muttered Severus, "and I know this school fairly well."

"It probably smells like a litter box," said Merrick. "It's probably better that we haven't found it."

The Slytherins continued chatting until they reached a point where they could see smoke rising from the chimneys of the houses and buildings in Hogsmeade. Although Severus wasn't particularly fond of crowded pubs and shops, he did like the fact that Hogsmeade was an entirely magical town. With the exception of the hustle and bustle, it was actually a comfortable, welcoming little village. Everyone embraced magic with no question.

"Rodolphus is supposed to meet us in an hour," Rabastan said, narrowing his eyes at a few third years who rushed past them. "I'd like to go to Zonko's before then." He stopped short and looked at the others. "Anyone else up for it?"

Merrick nodded his head. "I'll go," he said. "I'd like to buy something and sneak it directly under Filch's ugly nose."

Both Fulton and Severus declined the invitation. Rabastan folded his arms across his chest, waiting expectantly for a reason.

Fulton shrugged a shoulder. "I've got a parcel to pick up at Dervish and Banges," he said.

Snape didn't really have anything else to do; he simply did not want to be stuck in Zonko's for an hour. "I'd rather take a walk," he said simply. "Maybe something interesting is happening at the Shrieking Shack."

Rabastan seemed to accept this. "All right, then. I'll see you both at the Three Broomsticks in an hour." He and Merrick shuffled off, and Fulton had already begun walking towards Dervish and Banges. A cool breeze ruffled the trees along the edge of town, sending a gust of spiralling, coloured leaves past Severus.

He started off towards the Shrieking Shack, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and huddling over for protection against the nipping breeze. His mind drifted from his mother to drinks with the Lestranges, and finally, when he passed a group of giggling girls, his thoughts settled on his meeting with Lily. Admittedly, tonight's meeting had been on his mind for about a week or so.

It wasn't just that he was anticipating the Veritaserum transfer, and he was, but it was also the fact that he found Lily interesting. He couldn't put his finger on it, and wasn't exactly thrilled about this new interest, either. He knew it wouldn't do for him to be socializing with a Gryffindor like Evans, and perhaps more importantly, a Muggle-born like Evans. Still, she was like a breath of fresh air compared to most of the students with whom he socialized. She had a better sense of humour than Lestrange, possessed a nicer disposition than Rosier, and she was smarter than the both of them put together.

Above all, Lily seemed to understand where Severus motives came from, and although she didn't agree with his decisions, she never questioned him, either. She simply accepted him for what he was—a hypocritical phoney—and refrained from pointing out faults or acting spitefully.

It was no wonder that she was a popular student, he mused. At least, she was popular in certain circles.

He ducked behind a large, red shrub and brushed through the leaves on the ground, following the trail along the Shrieking Shack's fence line. There were a few other students there, leaning against the wooden rails and peering at the old house curiously. It was still and ominous looking; there was an urban legend that if you stared at the windows long enough you'd see the shadows of figures sweep by. Severus had never seen anything, but it didn't stop him from scouring the windows, just in case.

"Having fun?"

Florence had approached so quietly that he hadn't even heard her. He saw her settle against the rails next to him out of the corner of his eye, and he cleared his throat so he could answer.

"Not really."

She snorted. "Me neither."

Ahead of them, a brave Ravenclaw had ducked under the fence and was approaching the Shrieking Shack. His companions were hollering loudly, cheering him on. Severus shook his head.

"Snape?" Florence asked, turning to face him. He glanced over at her, giving her a blasé look. She was chewing on her bottom lip, obviously concerned about something.

"Yes," he prodded, hoping that she would talk already. There was something about the look on her face that made him debate whether or not he should turn on his heel and flee immediately.

"Have you seen Evan anywhere?"

He should've fled, he decided. "Evan?" he repeated, drumming his fingertips against the splintered wooden rail. "I saw him earlier, near the Hufflepuff Commons."

"Did you really?" Florence asked. "I'd heard that from someone else, too."

"Then why," Severus answered slowly, unappreciative of the nuisance, "did you ask me?"

Florence gave an unapologetic shrug. "Because I knew you wouldn't lie to me."

"Did you?"

She nodded. "Yes. You don't waste effort lying about things you don't care about."

Exhaling through his nose in disgust, he did his best to look unimpressed. "You know me so well."

"I don't make a habit of studying you, Snape," Florence replied, raking a hand through her curls. "It's just that, though you don't got out of your way to be social, you've not exactly withheld your personality, either."

"And you can't get a good read on Rosier, is that it?"

"Something like that," she muttered quietly.

Severus decided to leave. He worried that if he stayed too long Florence would expect some sort of wisdom or knowledge from him, and he wasn't about to get mixed up in romantic nonsense.

"Best of luck finding Rosier," he said, turning to leave. "I'm expected somewhere else." He started towards the edge of the village, dried leaves crunching underneath of his feet.

"Oh," Florence called out from behind him, "bye." He placed his hands into his pockets to warm them again, continuing along the trail. Seconds later, he heard the sound of crunching leaves echoing his own, only more rapidly. Florence was following him.

"Snape," she said, catching up to him. She was nearly out of breath, waving a scrap piece of parchment in her hand. "You dropped this."

He glanced at the parchment, raising his brows. Swiftly taking it from her extended hand, he stuffed it back into his pocket, mumbled a quick thank you, and began walking again. Florence walked with him, and though he wasn't thrilled with her presence, he didn't go out of his way to avoid her. Thankfully, she seemed to be done with her ridiculous inquisition, and simply accompanied him in silence.

* * *

The Three Broomsticks was extremely crowded; the tables were filled with students, villagers, and even a few professors, and the space between the seating area and bar was so packed that it hardly left any room for people to squeeze through. Severus did his best to slip by, and when he reached the private room in the back, Florence was no longer with him. 

"Snape," greeted Bellatrix coolly. She and Rodolphus were sitting at a table, drinking mead. Rodolphus nodded from where he was sitting. "Have a seat," she continued, gesturing to the empty seats at the table. "Make yourself comfortable." However, there was a certain tedium in her voice that suggested she didn't really care if he was comfortable or not.

"Hello," Snape replied, giving the room a sweeping glance. Avery, Wilkes, and Rabastan were sitting at one end of the table, butterbeers in hand. They waved at him when he walked in and then went back to their discussion, which involved something about apparition and missing body parts.

Narcissa was also seated at the table, flanked by Regulus and Rosier. There was an empty seat across from them, so Severus slid into it unobtrusively. Narcissa and Regulus would keep each other entertained, he figured, so he wouldn't be expected to say much.

"Snape!" Regulus greeted Severus with a bright grin, lifting a steaming mug of butterbeer towards Snape before taking a sip. "You made it."

"Were you thinking of avoiding us?" Narcissa asked. Her blue eyes rested on him, sparkling wryly.

"That's not what I meant, Cissy," Regulus amended hastily. "I didn't mean to imply—"

"Forget it," Severus interrupted, which ceased Regulus's bumbling. He shook his head at Regulus before addressing Evan. "I had a little chat with Florence," he said, lifting his eyebrows to imply significance.

Evan was unfazed. "Oh, yeah?" he asked, settling back in his chair. "Where is she?"

"Looking for you, I imagine."

"Was she?"

"That was my assumption. She asked me if I'd seen you."

Narcissa, who'd immediately perked up at Florence's name, watched Rosier's face with intrigue. "Weren't you supposed to take her to Hogsmeade?"

Rosier's brow crinkled. "No," he replied. "I never said that."

"Oh," Narcissa mused thoughtfully. "She mentioned you were going together. That's why Hope and I left without her."

"Did she?" Rosier made a face. "Well, that was silly of her. We never even spoke of it."

"Probably because you don't do much speaking," Severus muttered, and Regulus snickered into the mouth of his mug. Rosier gave Severus a dark look.

"Well you both _are_ together, aren't you?" prodded Narcissa.

"Yes," Rosier sighed. He fixed a steely, fake smile on his face. "Of course we are."

Regulus managed to catch Severus's eye, and he nodded towards the door. Severus turned slightly so that he could see what Regulus was directing his attention towards. Florence was standing by the doorway, glaring at Rosier.

"Florence!" Narcissa simpered, rising out of her chair. "We were just talking about you!"

Both Regulus and Severus immediately looked over to Rosier. A shadow of disappointment flickered across his face, but it was soon replaced by a cheery grin.

"Flo!" he greeted, joining Narcissa by the doorway. "I didn't realize you expected me to meet you…" He leaned down and kissed Florence on the cheek.

"Cheeky bastard." Regulus bowed his head and coughed gently. "I saw him snogging a pretty girl from Hufflepuff about an hour ago, near Madame Puddifoot's."

"Did you?" said Snape. He snorted derisively. "I had suspicions about that myself."

"Not exactly out of the ordinary, is it?" Regulus agreed. "I bet he's got a load of girls on the side." He watched Rosier, Narcissa, and Florence silently. Rosier was rubbing Florence's shoulders and whispering something into her ear. She wasn't looking very pleased, but she had seemed to relax under his touch. "My mother says that the Rosiers are masters of seduction."

"Isn't your aunt a Rosier?" Severus asked. He was fairly certain that the Black girls' mother was from that family. He was privately amused that a family would be known for being seductive, and felt fortunate that his own bloodlines didn't carry nonsense tales like that.

"Mmhm," Regulus agreed. Madame Rosmerta came in and set another dozen mugs of butterbeer on the table, and he smiled at her before grabbing two and passing one over to Snape. "She's easy on the eyes, isn't she?" he asked Severus.

"Rosmerta?" Severus repeated. "I suppose so."

Regulus watched Rosmerta as she excused herself, slipping between the trio. Suddenly, Narcissa and Florence burst into laughter. Rosier was smirking triumphantly, trailing his fingers down the length of Florence's spine.

"Poor Florence," Regulus sighed. "I like her." His grey eyes surveyed her for a moment before darting to Severus. "I mean—not like that—but, well, she's nice and all."

"She's tolerable," Severus remarked, wondering if Regulus actually found Florence desirable.

"Right," agreed Regulus, tearing his gaze away from the doorway.

More people were filtering into the room, greeting Bellatrix and Rodolphus, conversing about the latest events. Severus sat quietly with his butterbeer, overhearing bits and pieces of various conversations.

"…Two killed in Yorkshire the other day…"

"…But did you know one of them was supposedly an Unspeakable?"

"…A werewolf pack in Romania…"

After a while, Bellatrix and Rodolphus had settled themselves near the younger students. They discussed life after Hogwarts and their current endeavours, but most of the conversation was heavily laden with innuendos.

"I'm actually thankful mother has taken over most of the wedding plans," Bellatrix said at one point. "I've been very busy with private lessons."

Narcissa looked surprised. "I didn't know you were taking lessons."

Bellatrix smiled at her sister superiorly. "It's an apprenticeship," she said.

Rabastan looked at his brother. "Are you taking lessons too, then?"

Rodolphus gave Bellatrix a sidelong glance and frowned. "No."

"Well, you've been busy, haven't you?" Bellatrix said, turning to the others. "He travels so much."

Severus recalled Rabastan mentioning that Rodolphus had secured a job in relations for some sort of importing business.

"Anyway," she continued, "we wanted to see you all again. I know Fulton and Merrick are graduating this year." Her heavy-lidded gaze settled on the two older boys. "Have you made plans yet?" she asked.

Merrick nodded. "Actually, I have connections at the Ministry of Magic. I've been offered a position there."

"Really?" Bellatrix murmured. "That's excellent."

Rodolphus leaned forward, looking interested. "I occasionally touch base with Ministry officials," he said. "Perhaps we'll be seeing each other."

Merrick smiled knowingly. "I'm sure we will."

"I don't know how much you'll be seeing of me," Wilkes piped up gruffly. "I'm looking into a security position for a private agency."

"Will that take you far away?" queried Rodolphus. "Or is it local?"

Wilkes shook his head. "If I'm hired at the placement I'm interested in, I'll be located in London."

"Good," said Bellatrix, looking pleased. "And if you're having trouble finding a position, do let us know. We've made a few well-placed connections."

Everyone at the table was aware of the connections of which she was speaking. Severus couldn't help but wonder if, when the time came, he would be offered similar help. He wasn't sure that he would take it, if it came to that. His mother's warnings echoed in his mind, and he was having trouble dismissing them.

The group continued to chat for another hour or so, and slowly, people began to leave. Florence and Rosier walked out together, followed by Narcissa, Rabastan, Wilkes, and Avery.

Regulus and Severus were among the last to leave; Bellatrix had pulled Regulus aside to talk with him about Sirius.

"Have you spoken with him?" she asked.

"Hardly," Regulus replied with a frown. "Not that we've had much to talk about."

Bellatrix's mouth tightened into a thin line. "If he's too much of a fool to come to his senses, he's going to find himself in a dangerous predicament."

"If you think I'll be of any use trying to persuade him one way or another, you're mistaken," said Regulus. "He won't listen to me; he doesn't even think I know my own arse from my elbow anymore."

"He should respect you more than that," Bellatrix replied.

Regulus laughed bitterly. "I'd only be wasting my energy."

"I suppose I'll have to contact him myself, then?" She seemed very displeased by the thought of it, fixing Regulus with a unhappy glare.

Regulus shook his head and sighed. "I'll try it, but I doubt I'll have much of an effect. He's stubborn."

Bellatrix frowned. "It will be better coming from you than me, cousin. He and I have never seen eye to eye, and I hardly think he will see validity in anything I might say, just to spite me. You, however, are his younger brother. Surely he has a soft spot for you in that thick head of his."

Regulus looked unconvinced. "I'll try," he repeated, glancing at Severus. Severus did his best to seem inattentive; he didn't want to become involved in any of Bellatrix's plans, not trusting her. He thought Regulus would be better off doing the same, too.

"Fine," Bellatrix said with an approving nod. "I'll see you at Christmas, Regulus." Her sharp gaze moved to Severus. "Snape," she said.

"Bellatrix." He acknowledged her with a slight tilt of the head before exiting the room. The Three Broomsticks had settled down by now, and the sky outside was growing pink as the sun began to set.

He and Regulus walked back to Hogwarts without much conversation. At one point they passed the blonde Hufflepuff girl with whom Rosier had been having a pash, and they exchanged looks.

"She's not bad," Regulus said under his breath as they walked out of earshot. "But Florence seems nicer."

* * *

"I've got a confession." 

Severus looked up from the text he was reading. Lily was standing by the steaming cauldron of Veritaserum, brows knitted with worry.

"I'm not a priest, Evans."

"Lily," she corrected, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "And, coincidentally enough, though you aren't a priest, you often make me feel like I'm doing penance."

"I'm sure you can count the number of sins you've committed on one hand, Saint _Lily_."

"Oh, shut it," she snapped. "Can't I say one thing without you acting like a smart-arse?"

He lifted an eyebrow.

"Right," she said. "Don't answer that." She moved away from the cauldron and rested her elbows on the table, leaning against it. "What I was about to say, before I was rudely interrupted, was that I think that you should to the transfer by yourself."

He frowned. "Why?"

"Because this is going to be extremely difficult and tedious, and if I so much as make one mistake, I'm going to feel awful." She shrugged apologetically. "And you will never, ever let me forget it. I don't know if I can function properly under that sort of pressure."

He paused, unsure of what to say. He knew very well that Lily would be perfectly capable of performing the transfer. She'd proved herself capable on many occasions, and she was, by far, the most competent partner he'd ever had. Then again, if she did happen to make a mistake, he wasn't certain that he would be able to hold his tongue.

"That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard you say," he finally announced. "Though I must admit that if you ruined everything, I would take pleasure in blaming you, just to see Slughorn's face after hearing that you are a failure." He smiled at the thought. "Remind me to bring a handkerchief."

Lily wrinkled her nose. "Ha, ha."

He snorted at her face and then looked at a timepiece on the table. "It's nearly time, and you are going to go through with this like we planned. Are you ready?"

She hesitated before nodding. "I suppose so." She grabbed his pair of dragon hide gloves and pushed them across the table. "Here." The both put on their gloves and moved to the simmering cauldron. Lily had carefully placed the cauldrons side by side so that they would be able to make the transfer with less difficulty. Empty cauldrons were heavy enough, and with the added weight of the potion, the potential for disaster was multiplied exponentially.

"I'm a fair hand at Charms," Lily told him, "but I don't know that I can hold the cauldron steady for very long. You'll have to tip it quickly."

He nodded. "All right. On the count of three, then." He paused, gathering his thoughts, and began to count. "One, Two…"

"Three," murmured Lily, and with a flick of her wand, she was levitating the cauldron into the air. Her charm was actually quite good, and Severus momentarily marvelled at her ability to keep the potion from sloshing around.

It hovered nearer to the silver cauldron as she directed it with the tip of her wand. Severus glanced at the enclosing space between the two cauldrons and then over at Lily. She was biting her lip, but she gave him a slight nod. "Go on," she mouthed.

He quickly moved to the cauldron, grabbed the handles, and pulled it over until the potion began to dribble into the silver cauldron. "Loosen up your spell a bit," he ordered gruffly, as he was having a hard time getting the liquid to pour smoothly. Not only that, but even through the dragon hide, his fingers were growing warm from the heat of the metal.

"Okay," Lily whispered. Severus felt the cauldron move with more ease under his hands, and the potion started to flow steadily into the silver cauldron.

"Good," he said, muscles rigid with concentration. "It's nearly half filled now." As the potion hit the silver in the cauldron, the consistency thinned and it became slightly less opaque, just as the text stated it would.

"Does it look right?" Lily enquired.

"Yes," he said, quickly. He hadn't wanted to say anything, but his fingers were beginning to burn, and his eyes started to water from pain. In spite of himself, he swore loudly. Only a bit of the potion remained in the cauldron he was handling.

Lily immediately dropped her charm. "You're burning, aren't you?" she exclaimed, rushing forward. Before Severus could protest, she grabbed his hands and swiftly tipped the rest of the potion into the cauldron, emptying it before placing it roughly onto the table. Severus, blinking furiously, hardly resisted when Lily grabbed his hands and pulled off the gloves.

"You're an idiot," she scolded him. "Why didn't you just say that your hands were scalding?"

"Because I didn't want to alarm you," he said through gritted teeth. "You might've lifted the charm too early." He looked down at his hands; they were red and blistering.

Lily muttered an oath and dragged him over to the basin sink. Surprisingly, he didn't protest or shrink away from her touch. She started to run cold water from the tap and forced his hands under the stream. Again, he let out a string of curse words, unable to control himself. There was a throbbing, angry pulse beating in his hands.

"Don't move," Lily said, leaving his side for a moment. When she returned, she thrust one of his gloves under his nose. "Look how worn these are, Severus! It's no wonder you burned yourself! How old are they?"

Lamely trying to wiggle his fingers, Severus scowled. "They were my mothers."

"Well, you need a new pair," Lily said.

"Obviously."

"You could've borrowed mine," she added.

Overly irritable and pained, Severus did not appreciate Lily clucking over him like a mother hen. "Will you stop your insipid nagging?" he snapped.

Lily clamped her mouth shut. "Fine," she said. "Give me your hands."

Reluctantly, Severus held out his hands, palms facing upward. Lily took out her wand and waved it over the skin, murmuring a charm. The pain quelled, and he looked up at her, raising his eyebrows.

"Temporary fix," she announced. "It's only a numbing charm. You'll have to go see Madame Pomfrey for some ointment so that your burns heal properly." Her eyes glittered humorously. "And maybe something to heal your ego."

He narrowed his eyes and refrained from wringing his hands, which were tingly. "You're lucky I can't hold a wand," he said.

"I know," she replied easily. "No cursing for you." She laughed and shook her head. "The potion looks fine, by the way," she said. "I suppose you could say tonight's endeavour was a success."

Snape grumbled under his breath, unappreciative of the fact that she was laughing at him.

"I'll pack up your things," she said, moving to the belongings spread out on the table. "I doubt you'll want me to escort you to the Hospital Wing."

She was right; he did not want her to escort him. And though his ego was slightly bruised, he was surprised that he wasn't angry with Lily for chastising him. In fact, he was grateful that she was there and had the sense to act so quickly. Watching her guiltily, he cleared his throat. "Thank you," he muttered softly, though it pained him to do so.

"It's nothing," she replied airily, scooping his belonging into his bag.

While her back was turned, Severus reached into his pockets and attempted to fish out the scrap of parchment in his pocket. His hands were so numb that he couldn't move his fingers properly. In the end, he managed to pull the scrap out, but was unable to grasp it in his hands. He watched it float down to the floor with a defeated sigh.

"Will you come back for your things?" Lily asked, turning towards him. "Or do you want to take them with you?"

"Leave them be," he said. She nodded and placed his bag on a rickety chair before slinging her own bag over her shoulder.

"Lily?" he added, glancing down at the parchment on the floor. "That's for you." He tried to point at the parchment, but his fingers were not obeying the commands from his brain. It was infuriating.

"It is?" She walked over to the scrap and picked it up, brushing her hair out of her face as she stood up. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked.

He nodded. "I was going to show you the wand movement, but…" he shrugged uselessly, and Lily laughed.

"It's all right," she said. "Next time."

"Next time," he agreed, turning to leave. He stopped in front of the door and closed his eyes, feeling the urge to pinch the bridge of the nose, which of course, he could not.

Lily brushed against him as she reached for the doorknob. "Here, let me," she said. Her lips were curled into a pretty smile, and he found it difficult not to smile back. She opened the door and walked out into the hall. "Get well soon," she added with a wink. "I'll see you later." With that, she made her way to the staircase.

Severus waited for her to distance herself some ways ahead of him before he headed in the same direction. Even though it was extremely late and he doubted they'd encounter any students--with the exception of a prefect on duty, perhaps—he appreciated that she didn't expect him to walk with her.

As she ascended the staircase, various portraits attempted to converse with her. She greeted some of them courteously and ignored the ones that barked out rude and inappropriate comments. Most of the portraits took it upon themselves to admonish her (and Severus, when he passed by) for being up so late. Lily didn't refrain from talking back to the portraits, which was amusing in itself.

When he reached the landing on the first floor, she turned and, after glancing around cautiously, gave him a small wave. "Night," she whispered.

"Goodnight," he replied, watching her quietly as she continued up the staircase.

As she stepped onto the second landing, he slipped through the doorway, not wanting her to know that he had paused to watch her. He was suddenly flooded with a number of emotions, none of which he could explain better than the last. He was embarrassed because he'd injured himself, yet pleased that the transfer went well. Then there was Lily…He found himself growing accustomed to her presence, and liked her tenacity. Above all, however, he was relieved that the ease of their partnership—he hesitated to call it anything else—remained a secret. He enjoyed Lily's company well enough, but he did not want anyone else to find out about it.

It was a risk that neither of them needed.

* * *

**To my readers**: Thank you for your patience through Nanowrimo month. I'm just glad I managed to get another chapter out before the holidays. 

Merry Christmas to you all, and again, I appreciate that you're keeping up with this.


	11. A Cunning Trap

--Previous disclaimers apply

**A Cunning Trap**  
Chapter 11

It was Saturday morning and Severus was in the greenhouse, carefully pruning the yellowed, drying leaves off of one of Professor Sprout's plants. Students in her N.E.W.T. classes were required to sign up for practical hours. They were meant to re-pot and water plants, prune dead leaves, and in some cases, feed the plants. It was an easy mark, mostly because the work didn't take very long and was hardly strenuous. Severus actually enjoyed the peace and quiet; the Slytherins had been quite noisy the night before, having won their first Quidditch match against Ravenclaw.

He pruned a final leaf and stooped to gather the leaves and throw them into the compost bin. On his way to the door, he heard a strange choking sound; it almost sounded like strangled breathing. He paused, craning his neck to get a better listen.

It was definitely a choking noise, he decided, but it was also accompanied by a series of hiccups and sniffles, so he doubted that it was an emergency. Raising an eyebrow, he dropped the leaves in the compost, then, very carefully, peered through the doorway towards the source of the sniffling.

There was someone there—a student, presumably—but he couldn't tell who it was because the figure was hooded. Hunched over, its hands covered its face and its shoulders shuddered with every sob. Usually Severus would have fled from a situation like this, but his curiosity was getting the best of him. Besides, the figure was wearing Slytherin robes, and he was fairly certain it was a girl.

After a few seconds of deliberation, he decided to approach the student, coughing gently. He stopped when he was within a yard of her, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Unsure of what his next course of action should be, he watched the figure, trying to come up with something to say.

He decided on, "It's too cold to be crying. You should go inside."

The figure gave a little sob and lifted her head. It was Florence, and she looked awful. Her eyes were pink and puffy and there were red streaks down her cheeks from where the skin had been agitated by her salty tears and the autumn chill.

"Snape," she said, and promptly began to cry some more. Severus was so unaccustomed to being around such blatant emotion that he felt uneasy. Her blue eyes welled up and large tears spilled down her cheeks again. He tore his eyes away from her and stared at the frozen ground. He didn't think he'd done anything to make her more upset, but it was difficult to tell.

"What's wrong?" he finally managed to ask. "Did someone die?"

She shook her head, hiccuping back another sob. "Die?" she repeated a little hysterically, "no, no one's dead. Not yet."

It was at this point that he realized the probable source of her tears: Rosier. Rosier had been the star of the Quidditch match the day before, and he had probably spent much of the night celebrating.

"Should I find Narcissa?" he asked, trying not to wince.

"No," Florence said. She was wiping her eyes and nose with the sleeve of her robes, leaving behind glistening streaks on the black woollen material. "I don't want to talk about it."

He nodded, feeling a small amount of relief, then backed away. Her refusal to speak was fine by him. He managed two or three backwards steps before she broke down again. Her entire body shook with sobs and she was practically gasping for breath. He was at a loss as to how he should handle the situation; they weren't exactly close. He briefly considered going back to the castle and getting Narcissa anyway, but Florence let out a broken cry that made his skin ripple in gooseflesh and stopped him dead in his tracks. She sounded like a banshee. An extremely depressed banshee.

He couldn't explain why, but part of him felt compelled to take a few tentative steps towards her. He almost reached out to her, but felt it was inappropriate to use such a personal gesture. He probably should have said something like, "there, there," but that sort of thing didn't come naturally to him.

She didn't seem to mind. Without warning, she stepped towards him and curled into his body. He was barely aware of this happening, and once he realized he was rubbing her back, he was shocked.

"He spe-hent the ni-hight with her," Florence gasped into the front of his robes.

Severus made a noise in the back of his throat, but couldn't think of a comforting reply. Of course Rosier spent the night with that girl. Rosier could drop his robes quicker than any other ponce at Hogwarts.

"He-he used me," she continued. "I'm such a f-fool."

"Yes," he agreed, patting her back sympathetically. It was true, and he couldn't help himself.

"I really loved him," she sobbed, and he felt her warm breath against his chest.

"No, you didn't." Why, he wondered, why was he putting himself through this?

"I did!" She gave a gigantic sniff and lifted her head, blinking at him. "I think I did."

"Oh, come off it, Florence." Severus pulled back and grasped her by the arms, shaking his head in annoyance. "Just last week you thought things were going to end. As I recall, you already suspected his little…rendezvous."

She blinked at him. "But it got better—"

"—You let yourself think that it was better," he corrected. "You're wasting tears. It's ridiculous." He felt like shaking some sense into her, but lifted his fingertips to prevent the impulse.

She frowned at him, another tear trailing down her cheek. "You don't understand," she said, somewhat angrily. "You've never loved anyone."

"Thank Merlin," he replied. "If I should ever turn into such a blithering, love struck idiot, I'll Avada Kedavra myself."

"Really?"

"I'd be sorely tempted. It would be no worse than a broken heart, by the looks of it." He stared at her pointedly.

To his surprise, his comment seemed to amuse her, and she hiccupped out a giggle. "I'd like to see that."

"You're very macabre," he mused.

"Not your suicide," she said, smiling grimly. "Just the thought of you in love." He raised his brows in surprise as she continued, "If I saw it, I'd think I was dreaming. Or at least in some sort of bizarre plane of existence." He must have looked perplexed, because she laughed, wiping her eyes again. "Oh, Snape," she sighed. "I thought he really liked me. He's the first boy that's ever really shown interest."

Thinking about Regulus, Severus shook his head. "He'd show interest in the giant squid if he could make certain it was a female."

"Mm," she murmured, blinking up at him. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

"It wasn't supposed to."

"I know."

He nodded. "Well, I should go," he said, inching backwards. "It's much too cold to be standing out here." That and he'd definitely spent too much time in Florence's company. His tolerance for her had reached its capacity.

"Oh, right. Well, I'll see you, then." Florence was staring at him, brow crinkled.

Severus nodded and began to leave, but Florence unexpectedly closed the small gap between them. She grabbed the front of his robes, pulling his face down to hers.

"Wha—?" he gasped, and then she came terrifyingly close. Before he had a chance to escape her clutches, he felt her press her mouth against his. Her lips were soft against his tight, horrified scowl, and she was so close that he could count the number of freckles on her nose.

It only lasted a few seconds. When she pulled away, she gave him a sick grin. "Don't look at me like that," she told him.

Severus's hand was already resting on the wand tucked inside his pocket. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped.

"Self-preservation," she said. "If you tell anyone that you saw me crying over Rosier, I'll let it slip that we kissed."

He stared at her in horror. If he'd ever doubted it before, it certainly was clear: she was a Slytherin through and through. He would've been angry with her had her impromptu move not been so clever. "You're a conniving bint," he told her.

She grinned at him, though her lips were wavering slightly. Then, as suddenly as her grin had appeared, it faded, and her eyes widened with shock.

"Oh, buggering Hell." She nodded towards something behind him.

Severus turned around, dread filling his stomach. He spotted a figure peering at them from behind the other greenhouse. It was Bertha Jorkins, the school gossip.

"Shite," he said hoarsely, spinning back around to face Florence. "You have to Obliviate her," he said.

"No!" Florence protested, looking horrified. "I don't know how to do that!"

"You'd better think of something," he replied, grabbing her by the sleeve and dragging her along beside him. "If this gets out, you will sincerely regret it, I promise you."

"Snape!" Florence gasped, wrenching her arm away. "What do you want me to do?"

"Curse her." He continued to walk briskly, and Florence was panting, attempting to keep pace.

"I can't!" she said. "If I lose any more points for Slytherin, I'll have to sleep in the Common Room."

"Would you rather have that kiss become public knowledge?

Pressing her lips into a pensive frown, she eyed Bertha reluctantly. Bertha was already opening the doors to the Entrance Hall. Severus knew that she'd buckle under the pressure of preserving her reputation. "Merlin," Florence whispered, and she started to run towards the castle.

Severus was on her heels, and together they bolted towards the Entrance Hall. When they reached it, he flung open the door and darted inside, Florence following two steps behind. He froze over the threshold and felt Florence stop short behind him. The scene before them was mortifying, and he gawked in horror, imagining that Florence probably looked similarly. A crowd of interested Hufflepuffs was gathered around Bertha, who was talking animatedly with her hands. When she heard the sound of the doors opening, she turned around and greeted them with a proud, boastful smile. "Ah," she said, "here they come now." The group of girls tittered in amusement. "They hid their relationship well enough," she said, glancing at her companions and letting out a laugh that made the hairs on Severus's arm stand on end. "I'd have never imagined it had I not seen it with my own eyes."

Severus realized, with a hot rush of anger and humiliation, that she'd already told the crowd of students what she's witnessed. Before he fully comprehended what he was doing, he'd drawn his wand and pointed it at Bertha.

"Don't," he heard Florence say, though her voice seemed tinny and far away. "You mustn't."

"Langlock!" Snape spat, jabbing the air with the end of his wand. There was a flash of light, and Bertha suddenly clutched her throat and jaw, staring at Severus with goggle-eyed surprise. Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. It was the perfect jinx for an insufferable gossip.

He had absolutely no remorse for her, of course, and watched her struggle with a satisfied half-smile.

Unfortunately, his pleasure vanished when two figures swiftly descended the Grand Staircase, shouting and fussing at the students. Professors Sprout and McGonagall had been on the landing. He hadn't noticed.

"Severus Snape!" a voice harped, and he felt Florence sidling away. She gave him a look and disappeared into the shadows on his left. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall was striding towards him, furious and white-faced. "What on earth do you think you're doing?" she barked.

It was no use trying to get out of it, he realized, so he answered Professor McGonagall quite bluntly, "Cursing Bertha."

He watched Professor Sprout cluck over Bertha like a mother hen. She and the other Hufflepuffs escorted Bertha up the staircase towards the Hospital Wing, where, Severus assumed, Madame Pomfrey would be waiting. No one was aware of it, but the spell that Severus used was one of his own creations, one of his experiments with Latin. He really didn't feel like revealing the counter-jinx any time soon, though he supposed Madame Pomfrey would find out soon enough.

"An utterly terrible decision," Professor McGonagall spoke up into his ear sharply. "Professor Slughorn will be very sorry to hear about this, I'm sure. What on earth possessed you to jinx her, and in front of two professors at that?" She pursed her lips and eyed Severus severely through her spectacles. "Come with me, Mister Snape," she said. "You're going to speak with the Headmaster." She made it sound like it was a death sentence.

Severus followed her obediently, not bothering to give a backward glance to Florence. He'd been in trouble for cursing people before, but this was the first time that he'd ever been sent to the Headmaster's office for it. Not that he harboured regret for his actions. Bertha deserved it. In fact, he had half a mind to do something similar to Florence if he happened to cross paths with her any time soon.

"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall." Dumbledore looked up from the letter he was writing and smiled at his guests. "I take it you're not stopping by for tea?"

Severus and Professor McGonagall were standing at the threshold of his office, and compared to Dumbledore, their demeanours were stiff and unenthusiastic. The entire way up the revolving staircase McGonagall had berated Severus for his poor decision making skills, and though he didn't think it was possible, by the time he'd reached Dumbledore's office his mood had soured tenfold. He did his best to sink back into the stairwell alcove and meld into the wall.

"I wish the circumstances were as pleasant," McGonagall sniffed, giving Severus a dark, sidelong glance. "However, it seems we have another matter to discuss."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, lifting his eyebrows.

"Indeed," McGonagall answered tartly. "Mister Snape here has just hexed Bertha Jorkins in the Entrance Hall, directly in front of Professor Sprout and me."

Dumbledore looked unsurprised by her announcement. "I see," he said slowly. "In that case, would you both please have a seat?" He waved his wand at two comfortable looking chairs facing the fireplace, and they were quickly transported so that they were facing his desk.

Grudgingly, McGonagall and Severus both took their proffered seats, Severus slumping into one chair and McGonagall perching stiffly on the other. She glared at Severus expectantly. He supposed she was waiting for him to talk, but he had no desire to do so. It was a battle of wills.

"Perhaps you'd care to explain the situation?" Dumbledore prompted helpfully, ignoring the tension.

It was McGonagall who broke first.

"As I said," she began grudgingly, "Professor Sprout and I were standing on the landing in the Entrance Hall. Bertha Jorkins was among a group of her friends when Severus stormed through the door and cursed her." She shook her head. "It happened so quickly I—"

"—Actually, Minerva," Dumbledore interrupted, "I was hoping that Severus might enlighten us."

Professor McGonagall twitched, looking surprised. "Oh," she said, "yes. Of course."

Now the two faculty members were watching Severus, waiting for him to begin. He was extremely unhappy with the situation, and shifted in his seat a little before clearing his throat. He was trying to figure out how he could explain the situation without embarrassing himself.

"Bertha was telling a lie, sir."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked. "What sort of lie was she telling?"

Severus closed his eyes briefly, cursing Florence a hundred times over. "She told the other students that I had a relationship with Florence Jenkins." He glared at the two faculty members defiantly, but he could have sworn that there was a moment where both of them looked terribly amused by his revelation. As soon as the glimmers of humour had appeared in their eyes, they'd disappeared, so he couldn't be certain.

Dumbledore nodded, clasping his hands together. "Which is the lie, obviously."

Severus nodded.

"Why would she start spreading lies about you, of all people, Severus?" McGonagall asked. "I hardly think she'd want to start trouble with you."

"I don't know," Severus said, shrugging. He lowered his gaze to the floor and stared at it sullenly, refusing to offer up any more information. It was only when he felt a strange prickle at the back of his neck that he looked up. Dumbledore was gazing at him thoughtfully.

"Was Florence involved in this attack?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," Severus replied quickly, which was not entirely false.

Dumbledore nodded as though he accepted this. "Presumably, you jinxed Bertha because she was lying, then."

Severus hesitated, frowning. He decided to choose his next words very carefully. "What she said to the others was a lie, sir."

"Ah," Dumbledore said quietly before turning to address his colleague. "Professor McGonagall, would you mind paying a visit to Ms. Jorkins? If Madame Pomfrey has managed to reverse the effects of Severus's jinx, I wouldn't mind speaking to her."

Professor McGonagall nodded and stood up, straightening her robes. "Of course," she said. "And what shall I tell Horace?" Her steely gaze rested on Severus.

"I think thirty house points and a night's detention will do," Dumbledore replied. McGonagall nodded before exiting the office.

Severus sighed internally. He loathed losing points. He didn't consider detention a pleasant alternative, either, but he supposed he was getting off rather easily.

"Severus?"

"Yes, sir?" Severus's gaze flickered over to where Dumbledore was sitting. The elderly wizard was watching him again.

"Though I cannot say whether or not Bertha acted innocently, it was wrong of you to hex her."

Severus quirked his mouth to the side. "Yes, sir." Somehow, he felt that Dumbledore actually knew what had happened. It was disconcerting.

"Many a wizard and witch have misconstrued information about me and, I daresay, on a much grander scale than a room full of students," Dumbledore continued, "but I have learned to take such rubbish with a grain of salt, as they say."

Severus blinked, unsure of what Dumbledore was getting at. How on earth did the man know so much when he hadn't even been present?

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You mustn't let your anger control you," he said. "I have met many wizards who let their anger control their decisions. They often end up acting rash and unnecessarily."

"I'll try not to, sir." Severus couldn't help but feel insincere, knowing very well that his impulses of anger worked more quickly than his sense.

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well."

He stood up, gesturing to the door with his hand. "You may go. And please," he said, giving Severus a significant look, "think about what I've told you."

"I will. Thank you, sir," Severus said, quickly rising from his seat. He exited Dumbledore's office swiftly, feeling relieved, angry, and humiliated. As he stormed through the castle's corridors, he wondered whether or not he should confront Florence. It would be awful enough if the entire school learned about their tryst; he had no intention of fuelling that particular fire by having more contact with Florence than was absolutely necessary.

After some deliberation, he decided to take sanctuary in the library. There was less of a chance that he'd run into Florence and Rosier, and the strange prickle on the back of his neck had prompted him to do a little reading. After scanning through the familiar Defence Against the Dark Arts titles, he settled on a title and searched through the book's index under the letter "L".

* * *

He was so engrossed in his reading that he didn't notice when a figure sat down at his table. It was only when he heard someone clearing their throat importantly that he looked up. Regulus was frowning at him. 

"Yes?" Snape asked wearily.

"I thought you might be here," Regulus said.

"Were you looking for me?"

"Everyone is looking for you," replied Regulus. He began to tick names off of his fingers. "Rosier, Narcissa, Professor Slughorn, me…" He shrugged.

Severus pulled his hand down the length of his face. "What time is it?"

"Five o'clock."

"Ah." He wasn't sure what to say, so he turned back to his reading. Unfortunately, Regulus did not leave him be for long.

"So it's true, then?" Regulus asked. "Did you kiss her?"

Clenching his jaw tightly, Severus turned to glare at Regulus. "_I_ did not kiss _her_."

"But you kissed?" Regulus looked disheartened, which sparked fury inside of Severus.

What little patience he still possessed was completely exhausted. He shut his book with a snap and leaned across the table, whispering harshly, "None of this concerns you, Black. I have no intention of sharing anything with you, nor should you expect me to."

"It was just a question—"

"—An interfering question. Stay out of my business."

Regulus looked as though he'd been slapped, and he glowered at Severus, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. "Fine," he said. "I didn't come just to ask you about snogging Florence, you know." Severus scoffed, but Regulus shrugged. "Rosier was looking for you. I reckon' he wants to have a chat," he said smugly, making it quite apparent that a chat wasn't what Rosier was looking for at all.

Severus made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat while Regulus turned on his heel and stalked off. He mentally cursed Florence again; just when he'd managed some semblance of order in his life, she turned it upside down. He knew he'd have to encounter Rosier later, as well. Severus was not about to hide out somewhere for the night; it would be cowardly. The only choice he had was to return to the Common Room and face Rosier.

* * *

It was nearly eleven when he entered the boy's dormitory. Severus managed to stay in the library most of the night until Madame Pince kicked him out, and then he skulked around the dungeons for a while, checking on the Veritaserum and avoiding his peers' whispers and stares. When he entered the door, he saw Lestrange, Rosier, and Carrow sitting on their beds. They all looked up when they heard them, and Lestrange's mouth immediately curled up into a smirk. Carrow gave Lestrange an exasperated look and shook his head. 

"Snape," Rosier greeted gruffly.

"Rosier."

Rosier shifted so that he was sitting up and swung his legs around to the side of the bed. He stretched his arms and gave a false yawn. "I heard a funny rumour this afternoon," he said.

"I'm sure you did." Knowing what was coming, Severus did his best not to feed into Rosier's game. Nevertheless, he paused by the door, bracing himself for the worst.

"Is it true, then?"

"I doubt there's any validity to it."

Rosier stood up suddenly and walked towards Severus. "So you're not going with Florence?"

Severus blinked. He hadn't expected Rosier to come to that conclusion. "Going with her?" he repeated incredulously. "No!"

Rosier narrowed his eyes. "She denied it, too."

"When she was dumping Rosier," Lestrange interjected. He appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Shut it," Rosier snapped, whipping around to yell at Lestrange. "I'm not talking to you!"

Lestrange ignored him completely. "Rosier actually thought you were the reason she dumped him," he told Severus. "Can you believe it?"

Severus could only stare his roommates in horrified bemusement. It was absolutely surreal to think that Rosier suspected him of stealing Florence away.

"I did not think that!" exclaimed Rosier. He turned back around to face Severus. "I didn't think that," he repeated. "I was just wondering how it feels, Snape, to have second-hand books, second-hand robes, and now, second-hand _bints_."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "If you think you're hurting my feelings," he said tartly, "you're wrong."

"Right," Rosier replied, shaking his head. He was clenching his fists tightly at his sides, and for a second, Severus thought Rosier might hit him. In the end, Rosier simply turned around and crossed the room to his bed. "Well, you can have her, Snape," he said, crawling onto the mattress and drawing the bed curtains. "She's rubbish, anyhow. Perfect for you."

Severus stared at Rosier's bed curtains and then glanced over at Rabastan. He was grinning widely and giving Severus the thumbs-up sign. Severus sighed and lugged his things to his bed.

He hadn't gone very far when Carrow spoke up.

"Oh, right," Carrow said. "You got a parcel earlier. It's on your trunk."

Sure enough, on Severus's trunk was a tightly wrapped parcel. He grabbed it and crawled into his own bed, closing the curtains with a flick of his wand. Another spell severed the string binding the package, and the brown paper flapped open to reveal a new pair of dragonhead gloves and three new quills, along with a sealed envelope. Glancing at the gloves and remembering the events that transpired with Lily, he shook his head and sighed. Luck did not seem to be on his side as of late.

Picking up the envelope, he unsealed it and began to read his mother's handwriting.

_Severus,_

_I'm sorry it took me so long to get these to you. A few events have prevented me from finding a spare moment to get this in the post. I trust that you're in good health, seeing as that I haven't heard from you in some time._

_Your father is well. He's worked overtime at the factory for the past few weeks, and when he comes home he spends most of his time in bed. I've been feeling ill myself, though it's nothing to worry about. I've been told time and again that I'm working too hard and exhausting myself. Mr. Montford provided me with a few herbs that I've begun adding into my tea, and hope to feel their effects soon. He asked about you and wondered if you would be returning over the holidays. I suspect he misses your company, though he would hardly admit it._

Severus snorted in amusement, knowing very well that Mr. Montford would never admit to such a thing.

_As long as I've brought up the holidays, I hope that you're considering coming home. Soon you'll be too involved in your own endeavours to spend time here. Let me know your decision as soon as you can._

_Take care of yourself, Severus._

_Mum_

He read the letter twice before folding the parchment up and tucking it back into the parcel. He hadn't really wanted to return to Spinner's End for the holidays, but supposed that it was only right that he should. He also hoped, somewhat desperately, that it would be one of his last times to return to the dreadful place. He was ready to move on and break his ties with the Muggle world, if he could help it.

His mother would understand, and if she didn't, he'd explain it to her over the holidays.


End file.
